Necessary Evil
by Mizz Moneypenny
Summary: Mr McMahon becomes low on funds and drastic action must be taken! Madness from Stamford!Featuring DX, Rated RKO, Cena, Undertaker, Carlito, Coachman, Torrie, Hardy Boyz, Coachman plus more. Mr McMahon has a big revelation for all of the WWE. Finished!
1. Chapter 1: How can we be low on funds?

Welcome back to another one of my insane musings! All characters belong to Mr. Vincent Kennedy McMahon and World Wrestling Entertainment. I am only using these men for my own benefit (I wish!).

Hope you like this. The plot is very strange and would not ever, ever occur in real life (as no one would stand for it) but ignore that factor.

Enjoy!

- - - - - - - - - -

Wiping his sweaty brow with his handkerchief, Vince McMahon could barely believe his tiring eyes. Placing his reading spectacles on the end of his nose, his eyes were not deceiving him. _Unfortunately_, they were not deceiving him.

Slamming his glasses down, Mr. McMahon picked up his phone, desperate to get a hold of his executive assistant, Jonathan Coachman. "Get in here - on the double!" he cried, holding his head in his hands.

Knocking on the door, the Coach didn't wait to get inviting in. He was too eager to find out exactly what was up with his beloved boss.

"Ummm, you wanted to see me, Sir?" he questioned timidly, knowing that he was about to get an ear full. After all, he barely, just barely kept his job after the terrible events that transpired over the Holiday season.

"I thought you were meant to be keeping the companies finances in check while my daughter was on Maternity leave?" he scowled, once again glancing at the piece of paper before him.

"Yes, I was, but I thought that now she was back, she would resume her duty doing it." Coachman attempted to reason.

Vince sneered. "Never assume anything in business. Come here." he beckoned, Coachman stammering over to his employers side. "Tell me what you see..."

"Shit!" Coachman muttered. "How...how did we get _that_ low on cash?"

"You tell me - NOW!" Vince demanded, his eye balls building.

"I...I don't know, Sir. I'm so sorry."

"Sorry? You're sorry?" McMahon stood, his face turning a bright shade of maroon. "Do you have any idea how long it took me to build this business up from scratch, huh? Do you have any idea how close we were to going under during the Monday Night Wars? Do you have any idea how damn hard I have worked, just to provide the world with non-stop, supreme wrestling action?"

"I-I'm sorry." Coachman stuttered, very sympathetically.

"Sorry isn't fucking good enough!" Vince roared, his breathing deep and his sweat pouring from every ounce of his skin.

"What are we going to do?" Coachman finally quizzed after a few moments of complete and utter silence.

"How the hell am I meant to know?" Vince growled, his back facing his Executive Assistant.

"I think we need to call all of the wrestlers and staff in here for a meeting tomorrow. We need to face this head on." the Boss from hell decided after a few moments. "I _can_ trust you to do _that_, right?"

"You can count on me, Sir." Coachman nodded, exiting the room.

"That's what I'm afraid of." Vince whispered under his breath, contemplating what to say to his employees in the next 24 hours.

- - - - - - - - - -

The next day, wrestlers from all three brands, Raw, Smackdown and ECW piled into the cramped office, some managing to get a seat, the vast majority not fortunate enough.

"Does anyone know what's going on?" the extremist Rob Van Dam piped up, turning to face some of his fellow ECW comrades.

"No idea." Sabu shrugged, unable to think of any explanations for the meeting.

"We'll hopefully find out soon." CM Punk added, smiling at girlfriend Maria who was sat next to some of her girl pals from the Raw roster.

"This had better not take long." Randy Orton grunted, folding his arms across his chest as he waited impatiently.

Turning to face his tag team partner, Edge agreed. "Yeah and he'd better not yak on and on and on - I have business to attend to!" he winked, getting a hi-five from the Legend Killer.

The smiles were soon wiped off from their faces as their arch enemies, Shawn Michaels and Triple H, D Generation X, strolled into the room, each clutching a bottle of an ice cold mineral water.

"Trips," the World Heavyweight Champion walked over to his former mentor. "Do you know what this is about?" he questioned, heaving the title belt firmer on his shoulder.

Spying the title belt, the Game simply shook his head. "Sorry, Dave, I've got no idea." he replied, him and his best mate waltzing over to mid-carders Cade & Murdoch, demanding their seats or an arse kicking!

Reluctantly being seated, it was only a few seconds before Hunter's Father-In-Law makes his way into the crowded room, a dark purpose obvious on his face.

"Right, thank you all for coming here today." Vince acknowledged, making Coachman wipe a few specs of dust from his seat before parking himself down. "I bet you are all thinking what's going on here."

"No shit Sherlock!" Mr. Kennedy muttered, exasperated before the ridiculous scheme was revealed.

"Thank you." Vince sternly spoke, silence falling across the room. "Now, as you may or may not be aware - depending on what my dear colleague Mr. Coachman has told you over the phone World Wrestling Entertainment is indeed facing severe financial difficulties."

The employees in the room raised eye brows and looked at each other in dismay. Was he being serious?

"I'm afraid that this leads us to a very difficult series of decisions that we have to make, preferably together but I need you to all understand that you co-operation is essential." Mr. McMahon guided, clearing his throat.

"What kind of decisions?" Lashley piped up.

"Please don't tell us that you are going to dump some of us!" Matt Hardy yelped, desperate not to hear the words 'YOU'RE FIRED!' ever again.

"No, not at the moment." Vince put everyone at ease, at least for the moment. "However, there is something drastic that I need you all to consent to." he spoke, the room once again reduced to no sound. "There is no easy way of putting this, at all."

"Well then just get on with it and tell us you F-Wit!" Test cursed, Coachman giving him an evil glare for describing their boss as such a thing.

"OK, 'Test'; I need you to all pack your bags, sell you houses and come and live in this very office block." Vince replied, very matter of factly, returning to his suave leather chair in haste.

"Pardon?" the Heartbreak Kid quizzed in almost a whisper.

"I said, I need you all to pack your bags, sell your houses as you will all be coming to live in this very office block with your family." McMahon repeated, many of his current stuff dumbfounded.

"Please, tell me this is a joke?" WWE Champion, John Cena begged, his eyes wide and eager for him to confess of it being a little 'rib'. Nothing more.

"I'm afraid he's not joking." Linda strolled thoughtfully into the packed out office, her eyes solemn, her face serious. "At this rate, we can't afford to keep paying you in excess like we do. Now, if we make you live here, we can afford your living expenses and what not. It's the only way without having to release a vast amount of you."

The gravity of the situation was not even beginning to sink in with the wrestlers. They couldn't believe it.

"Tell me I have your consent?" Vince broke the silence, spying the uneasiness plastered across his workers faces.

"It may not be for all that long, just long enough for us to turn things around." Linda re-enforced her husbands words.

"What happens if we don't agree to it?" Michael Cole squeaked, from the back of the room.

"Then, I have no choice but to release you." Mr. McMahon frowned. "Now, does everyone in this room agree that we should all live here until our financial woes are resolved?"

When no one spoke, their eyes blinking in complete shock, Coachman offered a few words of wisdom. "I'm afraid folks it's a necessary evil until we can get this all sorted out."

With apathetic groans clouding the air like a vague fog,, Linda had a few remaining words of encouragement. "Just think of it as...as a camp!"

"It'll be camp alright!" Carlito wise cracked.

But would Linda's enthusiasm last?

- - - - - - - - - -

Next time in, 'Necessary Evil'...

It's moving in day! But will everyone get along with their room buddies?

Check back for more, soon


	2. Chapter 2: Moving in Day!

After a few weeks of preparing for the big move, it still hadn't sunk into everyone's minds just what they were embarking on; they were to be living in the Stanford offices with their work colleagues, the vast majority of whom many couldn't stand!

Sighing, Shawn Michaels took his youngest child by her hand, struggling to contain her nerves. "It's ok sweetheart, you'll see, we'll be alright."

"I wanna go home!" she sniffed, her eyes welling up with tears once again. "Mr. Flopsy is still there!" she whimpered, her daddy holding her tightly in his arms.

"I know but we couldn't bring him with us. He's gone to a much better place - bunny heaven!" Shawn attempted to cheer in his Christian manner, referring to their pet black and white rabbit who had passed away a few days ago.

"I-I wish I was with him!" Cheyenne cried, her face turning red with a mixture of anger and guilt that only a child could express with such innocence.

"Oh, darling, please we'll be fine, we'll get settled in here. Besides, we haven't sold our house yet so we can go back and visit Mr. Flopsy whenever we are back home for Raw." Shawn sympathised.

"Really?" she asked, her huge, blue eyes with a little more sparkle.

"Of course." he nodded, kissing his so far only daughter on the forehead with pride.

"Hey, Dad, look, it's Uncle Paul!" his son, Cameron, chimed in, tugging on his Father's jacket sleeve.

"So it is." the Icon's wife, Rebecca, caught up with her family, carrying a few essential supplies in her hands.

The two DX members, both clutching their baby girls smiled at each other in the same way; a proud, Fatherly fashion in their expression.

"Hey man." Hunter was the first to speak, reciting one of his famous catch phrases. "Are you ready?"

"No." the Showstoppa' sighed. Just thinking of all of the years of hard work he had put into providing that lavish yet well earnt house for his family, wasted. Yes, he had earnt a lot of money over the years but realised that for a good, happy retirement he needed all of the money he could possibly get. After all, he still needed to pay the bills like everyone else. His best friend realised that too.

"Yeah but - and this is the only time I will ever, _ever_ agree with Coachman; it is a necessary evil. Steph told me about it and we are in at the deep end."

"Her and Vince are talking again?" Shawn asked, shocked after the events that occurred on Christmas Day.

"Oh yeah - just." the Game responded, opening the door for his wife and partner in crimes family.

"Well, too late to turn back now." Shawn mumbled, trying to stay as optimistic as possible, for the sake of his family.

- - - - - - - - - -

Once arriving at the building, everyone had agreed to meet in the foyer as it had a much bigger area for everyone and their luggage.

Plonking his what seemed like his millionth bag of luggage down on the floor, Randy Orton could feel the eyes of a certain Mr. Cool burn through him.

"What?" he snapped, hating being starred at by anyone but the ladies.

"That's a bit over excessive, don't you think?" Carlito questioned, tossing a shiny, red apple up and down from palm to palm, glacing at the many bags before him.

"No more excessive that eating fifty apples a day!" the Legend Killer shot back.

Carlito sneered. "At least I _get_ my five a day." he winked, Orton's nostrils flaring.

In the mind of the third generation superstar, sanity was about to be re-stored when his tag team partner, Edge, strolled into the room, holding all four of his suitcases clumsily in his arms.

"Thank God you're here." Randy muttered. "Curly locks and the three glares over their is giving me the creeps!"

Edge nodded, noting his mates frustration. "Actually, yeah Sideshow Bob, get your ass away from us, we need to discuss tactics of how to survive these times of torture with morons like you."

"I'm not a mirror." Carlito wise cracked, chuckling to himself as he walked away to find some other people or at least some who would be polite to him.

"This is ridiculous." Matt Hardy spoke up, dumping his bags in the middle of the floor, turning to face his brother. "I wanna go back to Carolina. Now. This is gonna suck ass."

"I know man. I know." Jeff frowned, his hands firmly on his hips.

Before anyone could say anymore, a large giant of a man stumbled into the room, accompanied by his manager. And translator.

"I hope we don't get stuck in a room with that peasant." King Booker commented to his wife, Sharmell.

She snarled. "Baby, if he _got_ in the room, they'd be no way he'd ever get out!"

"Good point, my Queen." the five time WCW Champion nodded, puckering up.

"Save that for later." a deep voice called from behind them.

"Yeah, we'll buy the video if we're interested!" WWE Champ, John Cena agreed with Smackdown's ruler, Batista.

"If we get stuck in a room with either of them, I swear they'll be hell to pay." Booker growled, his eyes narrowing.

- - - - - - - - - -

Everyone was stood around, chatting amongst themselves and their families, trying to keep the situation as 'normal' as possible (if their is such a thing in the life of a WWE worker). All of a sudden, 'No Chance In Hell!' struck up over the tanoy system, everyone glancing around until they saw the figure of their boss, Mr. McMahon.

He usually implication of arrogance had been replaced with an almost bewildered, frail look. He was hardly recognisable. In simple terms, he knew this was to be a disaster and had little to no other options available, other than making the wrestlers work for free. He knew in his heart of hearts that - no matter how much any of them loved their jobs - that that scenario would never, ever occur.

Standing before the men and women of Raw, Smackdown and ECW, Vince sighed heavily, his hands plunging deeper and deeper into his Armani suit trouser pockets. "Thank you all for getting here on time." he acknowledge, many of the roster peering at their watches; they were nearly all half an hour late due to flight and taxi problems.

"As you all know, this is the last thing I would ever want to do, force you out of your loving, warm family homes but I have little to no other options." he moped, his head dropping.

"Is that sincerity I see on his face?" Chris Master's mumbled, sending Kelly Kelly into fits of laughter.

"Anyway, as I was about to get onto," Vince continued, still hating being interrupted. "Drastic times call for drastic measures. In a few moments, I shall be telling you who you shall be sharing a room with and where your living accommodation is situated." he cleared his throat, the Coach handing him his files.

"You mean, we don't even have the right to choose who we can stay in a room with?" Rob Van Dam released his wife from his clutches, each exchanging a worried glimse.

"I have taken into account who your friends are and have done my best. That's all I can say." Vince shrugged, finding the correct document he wanted. "Coachman, will you do the honours." he decided, giving the paper back to his apprentice.

"OK, yes Sir. I room one, it shall be Shawn Michaels and Triple H's families." Coachman spoke, the DX duo smirking to one another; maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all?

"Room two shall be Randy Orton, Edge, Carlito, John Cena and Torrie Wilson."

Rated RKO rolled their eyes, spying the man they had just confronted as well as another man that had something they both wanted dearly; the WWE Championship.

"Jeff and Matt Hardy, Nitro, Melina and Mr Kennedy you shall all be in room three with 'Taker and his family along with Kane being in the room next door. King Booker and Sharmell, you shall be sharing room five with Batista, Davari and the Great Khali."

King Booker wrinkled up his nose, himself and his wife exchanging appalled expressions.

"CM Punk, Maria, RVD and your wife, Sonia and Sabu, you shall all be in room six." the team of extreme wrestlers - and Maria - beamed to one another, all thrilled with Vince's unusually good choice.

"Test, Bobby Lashley and Kelly Kelly you shall all be in room seven with Paul London, Brian Kendrick and Ashley in room number eight. All brands commentators, you shall be in room nine. Are there any questions?" Coachman concluded, folding the paper into tiny rectangles.

"Yes, where am I staying?" the Masterpiece spoke, many superstars turning to face the arrogant oaf.

"Oh yeah, you are so memorable I almost forgot you!" the Chairman spoke, very dryly indeed. Taking the piece of paper from his Executive Assistant, he scanned the list, seeing if there was any available space. "You can stay with the Hooligans, Ashley and the Coach in room eight." Vince decided, Jonathan giving him a shocked glare.

"You mean, I'm not staying with you?"

"No well, it's hardly appropriate considering my wife and son and his family will be in our room." Vince reasoned, Coachman barely believeing his own ears. "Anyway, we'll take you to your rooms in a moment."

Many of the superstars gulped hard. The coming months of their lives were surely not to be easy.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Next time in 'Necessary Evil'...

Will everyone settle into their rooms alright?

Check back for more, soon!


	3. Chapter 3: We have to get along, somehow

After being told who would be bunking with who, the WWE superstars could not afford to take too long in contemplating the next few days, weeks, months - or even years - of their lives; they had to adjust to spending their most valuable hours in the not so much comfort of their work colleagues.

Shawn Michaels and Hunter were both impressed with Vince's unusually friendly decision to put them together in a room with their families. They thought for one horrible moment that they would all be separated, made to stay with their arch enemies; one forced to share with the Legend Killer, the other the Rated R Superstar.

"This is your room." the oldest McMahon grunted, buttoning up his jacket.

"You know, if you think this is another scheme to try and break us up then you are very, _very_ sadly mistaken." Hunter spoke confidently, turning around, not in the least bit intimidated by his Boss and part time Father-In-Law.

"Yeah, you tried that before, sending us all off into camp but we came through it bigger, badder and better than ever." Shawn shrugged, smirking as he did so, the Game wrapping his arm around the Heartbreak Kid's neck.

"No, no, I've realised that my quite frankly shady yet ingenious tactics don't seem to work on the two of you."

"Don't you mean shady and generic?" Stephanie muttered, the rest of the room buddies tittering to themselves.

Pretending to ignore his only daughter's last comments, Vince coughed, re-addressing the situation in a very mature fashion. "Yes, well, like I said, this is your room. Enjoy!" he spoke, dropping both sets of keys into Rebecca's hands.

"Well, let's go in!" she smiled lightly to her two young children, Hunter taking his baby girl from his wife's loving arms.

The Michaels' strolled inside first. Then paused. Then, Stephanie, the King of Kings and baby Aurora followed, the majority gob smacked at what was found.

"Oh my gosh," the Icon mumbled. "He wants us to...to..."

"Share a bed?!" Becky finished off his sentence, plonking Cheyenne down onto a near by chair.

In the entire room, there was one king sized bed, one double bed and a small cot (obviously for baby Aurora as there was fancy, swirled, gold writing on the head board). This was indeed hardly sufficient for seven people to share.

"You have to be kidding me." the Game sighed heavily, running a hand through his blonde locks.

"This isn't good." the Billion Dollar Princess agreed, shaking her head in despair.

"Wait till I get my hand on that bastard of a Father-In-Law." her husband snarled, handing her back their innocent daughter as he clenched his fists in anger. "There's probably a camera in here, spying on us, watching our every move." he rambled in paranoia.

Shawn knew that he had to attempt to calm his best friend down." Come on, don't get all worked up over this." he decided logically. Suddenly, the room's phone began to bleep, the Showstoppa' turning his attentions to that for the time being.

After a few moments of back and forth chatter, he put the receiver down. "That was the Coach. There's to be a meeting in the foyer in half an hour."

"What about?" Rebecca quizzed, sitting down gently on the edge of the bed.

"I dunno, something about ground rules." he jerked his shoulders in an indefinite fashion.

"Ground rules?" Hunter cocked an eyebrow. "What a load of balls!"

- - - - - - - - - -

Meanwhile, it seems that nobody else was to be impressed with the arrangements either...

In room two, John Cena, Randy Orton, Edge, Carlito and Torrie Wilson had been shown to their room. In their minds, there was a number of problems already, before they'd even spent little over two minutes in there!

"Ok, so there is one double bed, a set of bunk beds and a single bed." the Rated R Superstar examined.

"I bags the single bed!" Torrie announced, gently places her doggy handbags with Chloe and new dog, Stewie, down.

"I bags one of the bunk beds!" the WWE Champ and Mr. Cool spoke simultaneously.

"So, that leaves you two with the double bed!" Miss. Wilson chuckled, pointing at a disgruntled looking tag team.

The Legend Killer and the Canadian eyed each other up and down in disgust. Sure, they were good mates, but not bum buddies, contrary to popular belief.

"What?" Randy finally quizzed, pissed off to say the least. "I am not sharing a bed with him!"

"Oh, now now, come on," the Franchise tisked, hugging Randy's shoulder as the brunette raised an eye brow, spying his hand's position wearily. "Now, we all know you aren't being exactly, ummm 'straight' with us." he laughed, Edge and Orton's blood pressures raising rapidly.

"Yeah, we all know about the 'incident'." Carlito nodded, Torrie smirking at him.

"What 'incident'?" Edge mimicked, the youngest Orton finally had it with John fumbling with his broad shoulders.

"The incident with you and Edge and the, you know...shower."

His breathing heavy, Randy finally exploded. "That was a complete accident!" he yelled, Edge tugging at his own hair.

"How was I to know that Randy was taking a shower?"

"Maybe, maybe but we didn't see either of you for a while and - when we did - you were all looking a little flustered and red in the face." Carlito continued, Torrie holding back her laughter.

"Hey, flustered and red in the face like you are both turning now!" the WWE Champion mocked, the Rated R Superstar finally pushed to the limits.

Dashing over to where Cena was sat on the corner of one of the bunk beds, Edge pummelled feebly on him, Carlito and Randy finally managing to restrain him.

"That's enough!" Wilson yelped, her hands covering her ears as a defence from all of the cursing. "Please, just stop this."

Eventually, everyone turned around, letting the blonde Diva voice her opinions. "Look, if we have to stay in her with each other for however long it may be, we _have_ to at least _try_ and get along."

"Yeah, she's right. We can't just keep launching off into each other or making smart ass comments. I'm sorry." John apologised.

"Yeah. Sorry." Edge mumbled, Randy with a question on his face.

"Why can't Carlito and Torrie share that double bed?"

Glancing at each other awkwardly, the serial apple eater blushed whilst looking at the former Playboy model. "Well, you see, we aren't in that kind of a relationship...yet."

The other three men in the room's mouths dropped over in a mixture of shock and worry.

"You mean, you have laid her yet?" Randy shouted, barely believing what he'd just heard.

"Hey, we aren't all a womanising jerk like you!" Carlito retaliated, grabbing an apple from his bag and tossing it from hand to hand. "Some men take there time, and are sensitive." he added, Torrie reminding him to keep calm and to try and get along with everyone.

"Even so..." Randy muttered.

"By the way, where is the famous Sam anyway?" Edge inquired, referring to the Legend Killer's fiancée.

"Well, you see, it's not that she didn't want to come with me, it's just..."

"What? She didn't want to stay with us lot?" Cena asked.

"Yeah and she...she would sooner stay with her parents." Randy groaned, parking himself on the double bed.

Edge placed an comforting hand on Randy's arm. "Don't worry. Perhaps she'll come and visit soon."

"I hope you are right." Randy blinked, replying lightly.

Suddenly, the phone bleeped. Being nearest to it, Carlito picked the receiver up, making small talk much like Shawn Michaels had done earlier.

"There's a meeting downstairs in about half an hour. We need to go down there." he announced, the rest of his room mates trying to fathom out just what could be on the oldest McMahon's mind.

But how would the meeting turn out?

- - - - - - - - - -

Next time in 'Necessary Evil'...

Is everybody impressed with their Bosses ridiculous rules and regulations?

Check back for more, soon!

- - - - - - - - - -

First off, thank you to everyone who has read and more importantly reviewed this so far. It's great that you guys are appreciating it and I'm having a lot of fun writing it. Thanks also to everyone who has added this to their alerts of favs. That's great too, so, thank you!

Secondly, I may start doing just one edition of this a week. However, hopefully, sometime over the next week, there should be a Shawn/Triple H slash that people have been asking me to write. I'm not keeping promises but there may be one.

Thanks once again for reading!


	4. Chapter 4: DAMN!

Everyone made their way back down from each of their rooms - some even choosing to socialise with those they were bunking with - into the foyer, waiting for the meeting with Vince McMahon to begin. Nobody knew exactly what to expect, other than it was a meeting discussing ground rules.

Fashionably late, the Boss strolled casually into the room, his Executive Assistant not too far behind him. Clearing his throat, the room became instantly quiet. "Thank you, everyone, for coming down here on time. Can we all make our way into the dinning hall, please?" he questioned, unusually politely, guiding his workers to the dinning room.

"You mean, this place has a dinning room?" Johnny Nitro muttered to his girlfriend.

"Oh yeah Babe, c'mon, when you are that rich, you can have anything you want!" Melina enthused, filling her chipped nail to perfection.

This time, everyone managed to find a seat, much to the delight of those made to stand before. It would have been hard not to; the dinning room was beyond huge. It included three long, thin tables that could fit at least twenty men and women each as well as three sparkling clean silver fridges. Behind the double doors was a mammoth kitchen, preparing to cook everyone their evening meals.

"I hope this doesn't take too long." Chris Masters muttered to roomie, Ashley, sniffing under his armpit. "I think I'm beginning to smell."

"Beginning?" the blonde giggled, the Masterpiece's eyes wide and shocked.

"And that's just his matches!" Carlito mocked from across the table, watching the glares come from his New Years Revolution opponent.

"Order everyone!" Vince called, standing at the head of the middle table. "Now, many of you know that there will need to be ground rules set, for however long we are all staying here for.

"Great!" Daivari muttered to his partner.

"So, to save my voice, Coachman will now come out here and read the set of rules I have prepared." Vince ordered, choosing to examine the look of dissatisfaction and shock on his Executive Assistance's face.

"All of it?" he whispered, his eyes only glancing over the double side of A4, loaded with handwritten notes by the boss. Upon getting a nod of approval from Mr. McMahon, Jonathan continued. "Ok, the first rules include meal times." he declared, reading the times out. "Breakfast is served at 7.30 am until 8 am, Lunch at 12.30pm until 1.30pm and the evening meal from 6pm until 7pm. That is, if you are staying here when you are not on the road with Raw, Smackdown or ECW."

"I object." Triple H stood from the end of the table, trying to keep a calm manner about him. "As you know, they are some of the times we feed Aurora and put her down for a nap," he stated, his wife nodding in agreement. "We can't eat _and_ keep an eye on her at the same time."

"You have one of two options." Vince began, standing from his seat. "Either, you feed her at a different time, you take it in turns to eat."

"We like to eat together, Dad." the Billion Dollar Princess whined slightly, Vince becoming a little exasperated already.

He swallowed, hard. "It's either that or you let myself and Linda look after her while you eat in here. Of course, we have separate rooms to the rest of you."

"We'll cope." Hunter decided, not trusting his In-Laws one bit. He knew that they would never let any harm come to his baby girl but just wasn't too keen on the idea of them 'looking after her'.

"Secondly, lights out at 9.30pm." Coachman continued, groans coming from everyone in attendance.

"No way, man!" Rob Van Dam stood to his well educated feet.

"And why not?" Linda quizzed, very naively. "I'm always in bed by 9 o'clock."

"Yeah, that's coz she needs all of the beauty sleep she can get!" Mr. Kennedy mocked.

"Dat...dat was cool!" Carlito smirked.

"Some of us...you know..." RVD's wife, Sonia, joined in the process.

"Some of us like a shag before we go to bed!" Randy Orton called, very crassly.

"Yeah, not that she would know about getting any!" Edge chuckled sadistically.

"SHUT UP!" Vince cried, slamming his fist to the wooden table. "I will **not** have you devaluing my wife!"

"You can do it for all of us, right?" the King of Kings wise cracked, a few members of the table tittering along with him.

"Anyway, like we were saying, some of us like to...ummm...do stuff before we officially go to bed." the Whole F'N Show continued, trying to divert the conversation.

"That's all very well and good but do you intend in practicing sexual intercourse with at least two other people in the room?" Matt Hardy spoke up.

Edge rolled his eyes. "Oh, c'mon Hardy, you are _so_ frigid."

"It's better than being a slut!" Jeff defended his older brother.

"Take that back!" the Rated R Superstar rose from his seat, standing over the two males of Team Extreme, nearly pulling his hair out from the roots.

Version One beamed to himself. "How do you know we are talking about anyone in here?" obviously referring to his former girlfriend.

By this time, the Canadian had had enough. "FUCK YOU!" he struggled for breath, feeling himself stumble into a state of panic. Continuing to mutter obscenities, Edge was taken to the back of the room by a couple of WWE Trainers, the final sparks of sanity creeping away from his mind. Even his partner in crime couldn't relate to him, throwing him a worried glance before continuing his trail of thought.

Vince was about to speak up, before becoming rudely interrupted.

"Oh, oh oh!" the Legend Killer raised his hand, as if he was an eager, impressionable school child once again, finally getting a correct answer in class. "I have an idea."

"Yeah but the last idea you had, it involved you thinking that you paid for babies in a Cabbage Patch!" Carlito reminded, many in the hall erupting into a state of laughter.

Mr. McMahon urged his staff to quieten down, as if he was the only person willing to listen to Orton's insane musings. Although he himself had to chortle at the King of Cool's last memory.

"How about, if people do want sex before they go to bed, how about the two guys remaining in the room tape it!" by this time, many of the older members of the room groaned, shaking their heads in disgust. "No, no, hear me out." the St. Louis resident urged. "Then, we could flog them, you'd be able to make some money and we can all go and live back where we want to."

His slightly odd suggestion was greeted with a mixture of jeers and leers, even the perverse boss himself not knowing quite what to say to that.

Suddenly, the doors flew open, many turning around to see what was happening. A tall, dark, rounding man entered the room, gazing around vaguely for a few seconds. He then waltzed up to the youngest Orton's face. "**DAMN!**" he hollered, disappearing again with a blink of the eye.

"Ok..." Coachman gasped, looking to Shane McMahon for some sort of reassurance. Was everyone _really_ losing their minds so hastily?

Before anyone could say anymore, the shrill cries of a baby could be heard coming from the back of the room. Aurora Rose had awoken from her slumber, confused by the baffling noises and scenery around her.

"Oooppps!" Shawn mouthed to his best mate.

"Sorry, I'll take her back to the room." new Mother Stephanie told the room, clasping her small child gently in her arms as her husband held the door open for her.

"Great." Linda moaned. This was all taking far too long, her patience wearing thin.

"Can we go yet?" Mr. Kennedy called, he himself more than a little peeved.

"Yeah, I need a shower!" Maters yelled, many around him edging slightly away from him.

"And I need a nap!" Sabu whined to his close Extremists.

"Ok, ok, I know when we can't win." McMahon sighed, standing to his feet, running a hand through his greying hair. "We'll photocopy the rest of the rules and post them to you within the next hour. Until then, you are dismissed until diner time. That is all." he concluded, all of his staff gratefully scampering from the hall back to their rooms.

But would their rooms be more serene?

- - - - - - - - - -

Next time in 'Necessary Evil'...

What are included in the rest of the rules? How does dinner time go?

Check back for more, soon!

- - - - - - - - - - -

Ok, first off, thank you to everyone who read the last chapter and thanks for your great comments. I know a lot of you were expecting a slash to be put up today and I'm sorry that it hasn't happened. I'm not going to make up a load of excuses but I have been struggling with a few things to put in it and also have had exams this week. So, be patient, and I promise it will be up soon.

Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5: More ridiculous rules!

"This sucks!" Rob Van Dam declared, heaving his body onto the bed himself and his wife were to be sharing - in only the most relaxing of fashions - in a few hours time.

"I know." Sabu agreed, a state of melancholy toning his voice.

"Extremists like us don't go to bed at 9.30pm!" CM Punk raised his voice, his eyes settling over the vast landscape he could explore from the window.

"Oh no, Extremists _do_ go to bed early sometimes." Maria disagreed, skipping over to her boyfriend, twirling strands of his greasy, dark brown hair around her little finger. "We do sometimes when we want to do stuff." she smirked, Mr. Straight Edge imitating her actions as if he was a mirror.

"Yeah but, we can hardly do _that_ kind of a thing with all of these people in here, can we?" he murmured, wrapping his arms around her miniscule, well toned waist.

"No," Maria giggled. "That would be porn-o!"

"Still, there _has_ to be something we can do, you know, to pass the time." RVD's wife Sonia interjected.

"The question is, what?" her husband shrugged, a puzzled look returning to his unshaven face.

A small, child like smile kidnapped CM Punks lips. "Oh, there is something we can do."

- - - - - - - - - -

Meanwhile, in room five, the King and Queen had returned from their walk. King Booker felt his sinuses begin to clog, blaming the 'peasants' in the room and their 'Unholy stench'.

Upon their return, their was only one of a possible three men left in the room; Batista.

Listening to loud, hardcore rock music, the Animal barely noticed the couples passable presence in the room. He glanced to them, managing a slight 'hey' before returning to his light reading.

"Only peasants read music magazines." Booker announced, Queen Sharmell removing his heavy, velvety red robe from his shoulders.

"Oh yeah, who said?" Batista quizzed, removing his ear phones.

"Me." Booker replied, turning away from the Animal.

Batista stood to his feet, the former Evolution member refusing to be patronised. "Look," he spoke, his gruff voice demanding the 'Kings' attention. "If we _have_ to stay in here together, I'm not gonna bitch or be some little cry baby. I wouldn't expect it of you and I hope you don't expect it of me." he continued, Booker putting his hands on his hips. "Lets put the past behind us." the Animal decided, holding out his hand as a sign of respect to the other gentleman.

Suddenly, a slip of paper slid from under the door. Booker chose to ignore Batista's civilised hand shake offerings, making his Queen read from the piece of paper she held in her hands.

"Oh, man!" she cried, shaking her head in disgust. "Baby, we have to **share** a shower room with these...these other commoners!"

King Booker's mouth dropped open, a sound denoting shock and disgust escaped. "Share? A shower?" he gasped, his eyes as wide as saucers.

"Yeah man, it won't be that bad." Batista piped up, grabbing a sandwich from his bag and taking starved bites from it.

"It won't be bad?" Booker exclaimed. "WON'T BE BAD?"

"Easy, baby." Sharmell soothed, forcing her husband to take a seat on the edge of their luxury bed, rubbing his back, trying to get his breathing back to normal.

"Yeah, it won't be that bad." Batista repeated, throwing his sandwich wrapper in the bin.

King Booker rose from his place, his breaths still shallow but his eyes narrow, glaring a hole through the very man who 'stole' his World Title belt. "It will be terrible because of people like you and that Daivari moron, taking my shower, making it filthy!" he ranted, his eyes full of hatred. "I bet you any money that the gigantic, brain the size of a peanut Khali will have trashed the place before we even get the chance of looking around it, let alone using it!"

Before the Champion could accept the Kings offer, a flustered looking Daivari shot into the room. "Has anyone got any spare towels? There has been an accident in the bathroom..."

- - - - - - - - - -

In room number eight, the Hooligans and Ashley we chilling out, making the best of the situation whilst watching a DVD on TV. None of them were that interested in it; they were more interested in discussing the arrangements.

"Man, I can't believe we got pushed into a room with that moron Coachman!" Brian Kendrick shook his head, falling back onto the bed with his head in his hands.

"I know...it sucks bad." Ashley agreed, laying her head on Paul's stomach.

"It doesn't _have_ to suck." London disagreed, moving the Diva and rummaging around in his bag. "We could have a little fun with him."

"Oh yeah, what like." Kendrick raised an eyebrow, sitting up to face his tag partner clearer.

Taking one glance at Coach's bed and another look at his 'supplies' in his bag (basically food; he'd heard that the majority of the food in the office block would be cheap ass rubbish so he came well prepared) he took out some chocolate sauce, ketchup and apple juice.

The future Playboy model smirked, "That is gonna be rad!" she beamed, pulling back Jonathan's quilt cover.

Diving over his tag champ buddy, Paul proceeded in squirting what seemed like several gallons of chocolate, Heinz red sauce and juice over the Coach's crisp, white sheets. "Somebody had a little more than an accident!" he chuckled, smoothing it in with the covers.

Abruptly, they heard the key turn in the door. Ashley and Paul leapt back onto the bed, pretending to be engrossed in the offerings coming from the screen in front of them.

Letting out a huge sigh, Coachman stumbled into the room, looking hot, sweaty and a little bit peeved. "Thanks for helping me." he grunted sarcastically, Brian appearing very innocent.

"Hey, we don't get paid for being Vince's Executive Assistant now do we?" he replied.

"First of all, it's Mr McMahon to you three." Coachman noted, dumping the files onto the desk in the corner of the room. "Secondly, where is Masters?"

"Oh, he went to inject more steroids, I mean, ha ha, he went to work out." London smiled warmly, the Coach more than a little weary of his room partners choice of words.

"I am beat." he yawned, sitting on the edge of the bed, hearing an odd squelching sound. He glanced at the sheets below him, merely shrugging. He had business to attend to and being tired just wasn't an option. "Right, well, I'll see you mortals later. Time is money." he concluded, tapping on the face of his multi thousand dollar Rolex, exiting the room.

"Phew, that was a close one." Paul rolled his eyes, Ashley nodding in agreement.

Brian attempted to reason. "Yeah but he's gonna find out sooner or later."

"Of course he is but it will be kick ass hilarious when he does." she responded, Kendrick not so sure.

"C'mon lighten up man." Paul urged, squeezing his partners shoulder. "The guy's an idiot. He deserves it."

"Even so, you will not be in his or Mr. McMahon's good books when he does finds out." Brian told, turning up the sound on the TV.

- - - - - - - - - -

Elsewhere, D Generation X continued to read the bizarre list of rules and regulation. Their wives and children decided to go and get some much needed fresh air as the two best buddies examined the instructions before them.

"No take aways or any other non-canteen regulated food shall be brought into the building." Shawn recited, cocking an eyebrow. "If so, there will be a penalty of $50 **per** item! What?" he cried, handing Hunter the sheet.

"That's just dumb. Who's gonna pay attention to this load of rubbish anyway?" the Game shook his head, slinging the paper to the other side of the room.

"Huh, if anyone does it's more by luck than judgement." the Showstoppa' chuckled.

- - - - - - - - - -

Melina was beginning to cause more than a little stir in the room a few yards down the corridor. "Even so, as the only woman in the room, I should have the right to say what goes and what doesn't go." she stated, Nitro applauding his girlfriend.

"You mean, you're a woman?" Mr. Kennedy retorted, his mouth wide open.

"You bastard!" Melina mumbled, shocked that anyone would say that about her.

Johnny glared over at both Hardy Boyz. They found Ken's witty remarks quite funny.

"Don't worry, baby, they're just jealous." Nitro decided, sticking up for his main squeeze. "Jealous that they could never, _ever_ in their wildest dreams get someone as beautiful as you to be their girl." he smirked, the other males in the room disagreeing strongly.

"I have much better taste than that." Matt commented, flicking his black hair over his shoulder.

"Explain where she is, then?" Nitro scowled, the two men coming face to face.

Before left and rights could be exchanged, a sudden beep noise came into every bedroom in the office block. "Ladies and Gentlemen, this is Mr. McMahon. Dinner shall be served in ten minutes. If you would like to start making your way down to the dining room, it shall be on a first come first served basis. That is all." he ended, everyone in every room scampering down the stairs as quickly as possible, hoping to get a better selection of food.

But would they be successful?

- - - - - - - - - -

Next time in 'Necessary Evil'...

How was the evening meal? As the night begins to fall in, will everyone be going to bed at 9.30pm?

Check back for more, soon!

- - - - - - - - - - -

Hey guys, hope you liked this update! A massive thanks goes out to my girl LC Hime, SaraHHH, xzanessaxrox, Rie Takumi, DX Diva, I love ZigZag and bobmanv2.0 for reviewing the last chapter!

As for my Hunter/Shawn slash, well, let's just say it's on the backburner for now but I do have an idea or two up my sleeves.


	6. Chapter 6: We are not amused!

Charging their way down the corridors of the Stamford, Connecticut offices, the workers of the WWE were eager to be the first in line for dinner that evening. With rumours circulating that the food was rubbish, each wrestler and diva knew that - in order to get the best food (or at least the food that was edible) - they had to be at the very front of the queue, ignoring their friend's and co-workers needs completely.

Stampeding into the dining hall, each superstar manically grabbed a plate, many getting knocked onto the floor in the act.

"SHIT!" Test cried, realising that in all of the hurry there were only enough plates for exactly one each, meaning, none spare.

Managing to get to the front of the queue, the DX buddies grabbed anything they could for themselves and their families.

"Hey, I wanted that!" Chris Masters called from behind a disapproving Triple H, pointing to some of the 'delicious' looking potatoes that the D Generation X team mates and a few other people managed to snatch within seconds.

"Beat it, pussy." Hunter snarled, the Masterpiece not quite knowing how to react other than disappearing to the back of the ever growing line.

Dashing over to the nearby table, Shawn and Hunter gobbled down their food as if there was no tomorrow! Watching their husbands puffed up cheeks, Rebecca and Stephanie burst out laughing, each only with miniscule portions on the end of their folks.

"Woe, where's the fire, baby?" the Billion Dollar Princess quizzed.

In between mouthfuls, her other half spluttered a reply. "We wanna get seconds."

"I don't even want firsts!" Carlito interjected, sitting down next to some of the few people in the hall he would regard as sane.

Simply shrugging to each other, the partners in crime continued their munching, each dashing back to the canteen 'line' after cleaning their plates.

Grabbing a chair next to his tag team partner, Edge peered over to Randy in despair; the food was truly diabolical.

"How can them two go for seconds?" the Legend Killer asked, raising an eyebrow at the fumbling DX members.

As the gravy splogued from his spoon, the Rated R Superstar had a look of equal displeasure on his pale lips. "I think I'm gonna give up here." he decided, pushing the plate away from his body. "They must be _very_ desperate for food."

"Either that or eating at McMahon mansion has killed their taste buds." Chris Masters joined in, the table sort of sniggering at his comments.

As Kelly Kelly strolled past with a teeny amount of salad and grilled chicken on her plate, many of the men twisted their bodies, trying to catch a better glimpse of her body.

Test came trudging after his unlikely blonde girlfriend, still without a plate. Yet, his hands were delved into his pockets, as he tettered from side to side as if he was about to fall over.

"Lost something in there?" Mr. Kennedy mocked, Miss Kelly nearly chocking on her water.

Test didn't answer; he just crammed handfuls of the mish mash of food forcefully into his mouth, barely having time to chew it.

"You put food into your pockets?" CM Punk grimaced, Maria clenching her mouth as if she was about to hurl as she noticed the clumps of fluff accompanying the 'provisions'.

"I don't have a fucking plate that's why!" Test snarled, finishing his last bite.

"Dat...dat's no cool!" Carlito disagreed, grabbing an apple from one of the few fruit bowls, waltzing out of the canteen and back to his shared room.

- - - - - - - - - -

After everyone had finished eating their meals, they all ventured back to their dormitories, Vince urging them all to have 'an early night'.

In room two, team mates Rated RKO re-entered, Cena glancing up from the TV. "We don't wanna know where you two have been!" he smirked, Torrie imitating his actions.

"Ha ha, pal!" Edge snarled, offering the WWE Champion an evil look.

As Miss Wilson opened the cramped dog cages, she cooed lovingly at her puppies. However, the complete opposite expression was on the face of one half of the tag team champions...

"Yeah and Torrie, you ought to be more interested in your dumb dogs." the Legend Killer spoke. "Making sure that the stupid things don't shit everywhere!"

"They _are_ housetrained, you know." the Diva rolled her eyes

"It's Randy everyone should be watching out for, as far as crapping goes." Carlito interjected, sitting up from his bed.

"Yeah, hide your bags, Tor!" John laughed, the World Tag Team Champions less than impressed.

"At least I don't look like shit!" the youngest Orton spat back, his nose wrinkling in displeasure.

"What are you trying to say, huh?" Carlito interjected, on behalf of his lady friend, nearly nose to nose with the third generation Superstar.

Edge stepped in for his pal. "What he's saying is, apart from us, everyone looks like they have taken a step out of a horses backside!"

"So much for what I said earlier about everyone getting along." Torrie sighed sadly, placing the leases are her dogs bodies. "I'm going for out for a while. My puppies need a walk." she decided, taking her coat from the chair beside her bed.

"Let me finish with these morons then I'll you." the King of Cool decided, the blonde not even making eye contact with him.

"No, I'd sooner go now. Alone." she declared, grabbing her set of keys and making her way out of the cramped building.

"Nice going, wanker!" Carlito spat, shoving Randy.

"Me?" Randy pointed to himself.

"Hey, well, at least he can get it up to wank!" the Rated R Superstar defended his buddy.

"Oh and we all know you'd be an authority on that, don't we!" the serial apple eater struck back, a handicap battle of the words taking place.

Eventually, Cena had had enough, his usually laid back, passive attitude being pushed to the absolute limits. "Man, Torrie is right, you three are pathetic!" he stormed out of the room, the other three men unbelieving of what had just occurred.

- - - - - - - - - -

Hearing the commotion from next door, brother's Matt and Jeff Hardy spied each other up and down, tisking as they did so. "I wish they'd shut up. I'm trying to have a nap!" Version one stated, delving his head deeper into his pillow.

"Oh please, c'mon, it's only just gone eight!" Nitro interjected, unwrapping his arms from around his girlfriend.

"Yeah, usually by now we'd only just be going out, right Babe?" Melina agreed, looking out of the window in sorrow, her mind lost in the thought of all of the nightlife they were missing out on, all of the celebrities they could and _should_ have been hanging out with. Instead, they were trapped inside a dingy office with two people they truly couldn't stand.

"Whatever." the charismatic enigma shrugged, relying on the soft tunes from his I-Pod to ease him into sleep.

- - - - - - - - - -

In room number five, King Booker was getting ready for bed. Applying his special, custom made moisturiser 'so that his skin wouldn't get ruined by the polluted air', he removed his slippers, laying his head gently onto the recently puffed up pillow.

"I hope there won't be anymore mishaps involving the bathroom tonight." he stated. "I need it bright and early in the morning to freshen up my body."

Batista rolled his eyes. "C'mon, it's not Khali's fault that he is not quite familiar with aiming, is it?"

"You mean, you find it acceptable for a grown man to urinate on a floor?" Sharmell inquired, disgust shaping her eyes.

"No, not at all, but you know, being as tall as it is, and the toilet as small as it is..."

"As long as he or any other of you peasants don't do it again, everything shall be fine." Booker spoke rationally, not being bothered with the art of arguing at this time in the evening.

Suddenly, the door exploded open, Daivari scrambling in a little worse for wear. "Guys, there is _another_ problem in the bathroom..."

But what has occurred this time?

- - - - - - - - - - -

Next time in 'Necessary Evil'...

What has the giant done to the bathroom? What misadventures happen next in room two?

Check back for more, soon!

- - - - - - - - - -

Thanks once again to you guys reading and reviewing this story. Hope you liked the update!


	7. Chapter 7: To comando or not comando?

Hearing all of the commotion coming from just outside their room, the DX buddies looked at each other, puzzled to say the least.

Suddenly, Stephanie jerked her head up from her husbands stomach, awaking from her nap. "Huh, what was that?" she quizzed, Hunter unwrapping his arm from around his wife's frame.

"I don't know." he said. "But we intent to find out."

Lifting his head from his pillow, Shawn raised an eyebrow. "We?" he spluttered, unintwining his bodies from his other half, Rebecca.

"Yes, we." Triple H stated, throwing the Heartbreak Kid his leather jacket. "C'mon, it won't take us too long."

"Fine." the Icon exhaled deeply, rolling his eyes at his 'honeykins'; Sometimes he was too easily swayed by his best friend's words.

Shutting the door behind them, the partners in crime strolled over to the scene of the incident; It didn't appear too hopeful!

"What on earth were you doing, yo-you blithering idiot!" King Booker exclaimed, trying his best to confront the disastrous 'Great' Khali.

For the next few minutes, what could only be described as inaudible ramblings came from the mouth of Khali, Daivari seemingly the only person in the building to understand a word of what he was saying.

Peering over the edge of the cracked floor in the bathroom, Shawn and Hunter looked wide eyed yet comically at each other. As the 'Ruler of the Smackdown Kingdom' looked on in dismay, his Queen, Sharmell, stood beside him, mopping his brow from time to time; it really was the most _dreadful_ situation.

"Ok, he's saying that it wasn't his fault; it all just...fell, crumbling down." Daivari confirmed after what seemed like hours of confusion.

As Booker's face turned darker, anger welled up inside him; "You? You..."

"Look, it's not really a problem." Batista sighed, already a little exasperated with the display of madness before him. "Look, until McMahon gets someone to fix it, we'll just have to share showers with some other people, that's all." he shrugged, very calmly.

"What? It's bad enough, the thought of having to share a bathroom with three other morons, except for my husband, let alone more!" Sharmell yelled, venting her spleen on behalf of her husband.

As the petty argument continued deep into the night, the D Generation X buddies casually crept back to their bedroom without making a sound; the scene before them was too pathetic for words.

- - - - - - - - - -

Outside, as the cold, blustery winter winds scoped around her, Torrie Wilson pulled her jacket closer to her inflations; it really had been a tiring and mainly frustrating day. Pulling her two puppies by the lead, she urged them to hurry. As much as she was dreading the evening ahead, she was becoming fatigued and was in much need of a rest.

Not watching where she was going, she bumped into one of the few room buddies that she could relate to; John Cena.

"Oh, I'm sorry John, I didn't see you there..."

"It's ok Torrie, don't worry about it." the WWE Champion replied, holding the door open for the young lady.

"Were you about to go for a walk?" she questioned, watching him walk nonchalantly behind her.

"No, I just needed a couple of moments away from them idiots." he responded. "They are a little...annoying at times."

The Diva spluttered. "Tell me 'bout it!"

"I mean, I can tolerate Carlito," the Franchise continued, the two people and two dogs stepping into the lift. "But, he should really stop the fights rather than cause them."

"Oh yeah, totally." the blonde nodded, the two pairs of blue eyes connecting.

As the lift came to an abrupt halt, John let Torrie exit the elevator first, the two of them venturing back to their dormitory.

Once inside, they removed their coats. The Legend Killer was laid on the bed in nothing but a dressing gown which hugged his body greatly.

The Rated R Superstar re-entered the room, his hair still a little damp after having a shower. He was clad in a pair of jogging bottoms and a loose football jersey.

"It's nearly half nine." Carlito spoke, breaking the silence in two as he preened his afro. "We need to be in bed soon."

Although his observation was aimed at the former Women's Champion, Torrie never acknowledged his statement. Instead, she put her puppies back in their small yet comfortable cages, dragging a few items of clothing from one of her many suitcases and waltzing off into the bathroom.

A few moments passed. "Is she ok?" the Cool one quizzed, removing his shirt.

"Yeah." John nodded in quite an uncertain fashion.

Miss. Wilson came back into the room, dressed fully in her white and red love heart printed pyjamas. "Goodnight everyone." she said flatly, covering her eyes with an blue gelled mask as she attempted to ease herself into sleep.

"Come on Randy...time to get into bed." the King of Cool smirked, jumping into his single bed - as did John - if there was no tomorrow.

The third generation Superstar blushed; he had lost all confidence and arrogance of his person. "Ummm...Edge." he beckoned, whispering in his ear...'sweet nothings' as the afro haired gentleman noted.

"NO YOU **CAN'T** SLEEP COMANDO!" the Canadian cried, everyone except for the tag team champions bursting out laughing.

"I usually do at home." he mumbled, a little offended by the scenario.

"Yeah but you are usually sleeping with Samantha at home, not your straight, male, co-holder of the tag team championship!"

John and Carlito grinned to each other; it really was a precarious situation. "You could borrow one of my 'Word Life' shirt and short sets." John offered in a civil tone.

"I don't think he'd be able to fill them!" Carlito tittered, Torrie growling slightly at his attempt of a joke.

"There is no fucking way I am wearing any of your shit, child like merchandise!" Randy spat back, his face full of disgust.

Edge glared at him. "You _will_ wear them and that is that!" he ordered, handing his mate a spare pair that happened to be lying on top of Cena's suitcase.

Randy pouted to him; wouldn't there be anyway to change his mind?"

"Do it...now!" the Rated R Superstar ordered, Randy going to change his clothes in the bathroom in the most reluctant of matters.

Upon his return, the Legend Killer appeared shell shocked; he couldn't believe people would spend good money on this garbage!

Clambering into bed, his eyes were full of hate; everyone in the room had pissed him off today in a major way, whether it was intentional or not.

Moving hastily away from each other, Edge and Randy stayed at the opposite sides of the bed the whole night. Or - at least - that was their intention.

"Sweet dreams!" Carlito giggled, Torrie shaking her head in disbelief at him. Alas, he couldn't see this; the dim lighting of the room and cloudiness of his visions soon sent him to the land of nod.

However, a few doors down towards the end of the corridor, three men and two women weren't asleep and weren't planning on doing for a while yet.

Well, at least until they got caught!

- - - - - - - - - -

Next time in 'Necessary Evil'...

As the McMahon's and many of the Raw and Smackdown! rosters are fast asleep, five very likely people are not. What will they do? Will their mischief be more trouble than it's worth?

Check back for more, soon!

- - - - - - - - - -

Hey, a major thankies to everyone who reviewed again - keep 'em coming! Just to let you know - in this - Edge and Randy are still the Tag Team Champs and Hunter isn't injured, just in case you are wondering!


	8. Chapter 8: Midnight awakening!

Creeping down the corridors of the now deserted Stamford, Connecticut offices, four members of the WWE and one disgruntled spouse were far from being tired, far from the land on nod.

"We need to cause some serious havoc." CM Punk whispered loud enough to grab the four other people's attention.

Rob Van Dam frowned. "Yeah, I know what you mean man. This place sucks."

"It's too...too quiet." the Whole F'N Show's wife, Sonia, nodded.

"What about stink bombs?" Maria suggested, smiling from ear to ear at her dim witted idea.

"That won't help us - everyone's in there rooms. It will just be us who get gassed out!" Sabu tutted, pulling back his black locks from his face.

As the members of the vacated room six glanced around the empty hall ways, a wicked gleam twinkled in the eyes of CM Punk. "You guys, I have the perfect idea." he smirked, everyone gathering around to hear his master plan.

- - - - - - - - - -

Meanwhile, in room seven, tossing and turning - not to mention deep growls - were emerging from under the covers of the rooms double bed.

Sitting up to address the situation directly, Bobby Lashley quietly spoke. "Test...what the hell's up?"

"I've got fucking indigestion that's what!" he cried, clutching at his jacked up chest.

"How can you have indigestion?" the ECW Champion quizzed. "You barely ate anything!"

"When I did I had to cram it in my fucking pockets with fucking fluff in them coz I haven't been fucking assed to fucking wash them in five fucking years!" he ranted, Kelly Kelly sitting up in bed to rub her boyfriend's back, as if he was a newborn baby, trying desperately to get his wind up.

"Do you want anything, baby?" she asked, pulling the covers lightly off herself.

"Apparently, minty chocolate's good for indigestion." Lashley did his best to try and help. Alas, he got no thanks for this what so ever.

"Where the fuck am I meant to get fucking 'minty chocolate' from?" he mimicked his enemy, Kelly getting out of bed before her partner got too aggressive.

Bending over to search in her bags - and nearly falling out of her top in the proceedings - the ECW Diva managed to find some polo's that she always kept in one of her many handbags. "Have a couple of them - that may help." she spoke, Test snatching them from her.

- - - - - - - - - -

Finally returning to his shared room, Coachman was about to get ready for bed. "IS ANYONE ASLEEP?" he shouted, very inconsiderable.

"We aren't now!" Paul London grumbled, wiping the hair away from his eyes.

"Well you should be!" the Raw intern General Manager stated, rummaging deep in his bags.

"Anyway, where have you been, it's gone midnight." Brian Kendrick yawned, sitting up a little as he squinted at the digital clock next to his bed.

"As you may or may not know, as GM of Raw, I have several duties to fulfil during the day, some of which need to be done at night, to ensure I am doing my job correctly."

"You've been failing with that so far then." Diva Search 2005 winner Ashley tittered, much to the displeasure of the opposite brands boss.

"I wouldn't expect someone like _you_ to understand that." Jonathan smirked, exiting the room.

"What an A-Hole!" the future Playboy cover model exclaimed, retiring her hair into a pony tail.

"Never mind," Paul began to chuckle. "He'll get what's coming to him when he gets into bed!"

- - - - - - - - - -

In the biggest room in the office, snoring could be heard a million miles away; Vince and Shane McMahon were fast asleep, oblivious to the world around them while their wife's half dosed beside them, the Chairman's grandchildren doing the same at the other side of the room.

Suddenly, their silence was shattered; a million and one alarm bells blared out across the tanoy systems, Shane sitting up right like a bold of lightening. "Shit, what the hell's that?" he yelled, shuffling out of bed.

"It's the fire alarm!" Marissa replied. "The building's on fire!"

"Don't panic! Don't panic!" Shane yelped, clutching his sons for dear life in his arms as Linda tried desperately to wake a near unconscious Vince up from his slumber.

"You can go one top in the morning." the promoter mumbled, turning on his side.

"There's a fire - we need to get out!" Linda screamed in his ear, finally waking him.

"BY GOD!" Vince stammered, power walking his way out of the building, the rest of the family by his side.

As the whole building erupted into a frenzy, all of them struggled with jackets and shoes to get to the outside area.

"This had better be a false alarm!" Hunter snarled, holding baby Aurora securely in his arms. "Or some bastards gonna pay!"

"There doesn't seem to be any smoke coming from the building." Shawn observed, sniffing the air as he did so. "And it doesn't smell like the place is one fire."

"It's still best to be out here though, just in case." Rebecca reasoned, pulling her coat tighter around her body.

Before too long, the Fire Brigade showed up, the two trucks filled with eager men. "Everyone stay here...everyone is out of there, right?" the Chief fire fighter spoke, hoping to get one answer instead of millions of inaudible grumbles.

"Everyone who's worth anything is out of here." the Legend Killer arrogantly spoke, posing as he did so.

"Hey, so uh, exactly what are _you_ doing out here, exactly?" the King of King's wisecracked, the crowd giggled amongst themselves.

Randy never replied to that; his face was full of anger his hands clenched as if he was about to pounce. "If you weren't holding your baby, I would march right over there and slap the taste right out of your mouth!" he declared, everyone huddling together, wanting nothing more than to see the enemy's beat the shit out of each other.

Handing Aurora to her Mummy, Triple H pushed the hair away from his hazel eyes, his hands taunting his former protégé. "What you waiting for?" the Game beckoned, watching the youngest Orton's expression drop.

"OK, let's not have any arguments, at least not off TV!" Vince warned his employees, separating the two men.

Scanning the group, many of his workers were only in their pyjamas. Most comically, one half of the World Tag Team Champions was donning a John Cena 'Word life' shirt and shorts set.

"Why are you wearing your own, up to date merchandise, dammit!" he cried, a little disappointed in the third generation wrestler.

Randy's face turned red, his answer coy. "Uh...I don't have any PJs."

"Yeah, he sleeps commando." Cena shrugged, a grin commencing.

Mr. McMahon shivered, walking away from the quite frankly disturbing revelation.

After a few seconds, his eyes fell upon the occupants of room seven; Rob Van Dam, his wife, Sonia, Sabu, CM Punk and his girlfriend, Maria. He found it more than a little odd - and curious - that they were dressed head to toe, not in pyjamas but in warm, cosy tracksuits, hats and scarves and thick, winter coats.

"Ah, I see you five were fully prepared." Vince stated, delving his hands into his coat pockets.

All of the others looked at CM Punk; surely he had an answer. "Yeah, ha ha, that's us - we can see into the future." he joked, Vince jerked his shoulders, power walking away.

"Real smooth, Punk, real smooth." Rob tutted, shaking his head.

"Give me a break, what else was I meant to say?" he quizzed, no one replying; they knew they wouldn't have known what to say either.

Elsewhere, the Fire Brigade and Police Officers were speaking to Linda. "Fortunately, it was not a fire. However, for reasons best known to themselves, someone or a group of people smashed a emergency alarm with a fire extinguisher. Whoever did this is in serious trouble."

"Who would do something like that?" Shane questioned, mentally spying all of the characters on the roster.

"Somebody who is evil and twisted." Kane spoke, joining in the conversation.

The Police Officer inspected the red and black flamed, leather wearing seven footer. "Are you owning up to the crime, sir?"

"No. I wouldn't do something as sophomoric as that." he scoffed, heading back to his room upon the announcement that it was now safe to re-enter the building.

But how safe would it be for how long?

- - - - - - - - - -

Next time in 'Necessary Evil'...

Mr. McMahon decides drastic action needs to be taken on the several rule breakers. The question is, what?

Check back for more, soon!


	9. Chapter 9: In for a big surprise?

As everyone made their ways back indoors, many were a little more than annoyed to be woken up at such an unearthly hour for such a ridiculous cause.

Stepping inside of his shared bathroom, Test stumbled with his hand to find the door knob; he still had the most atrocious indigestion.

Locking the door after him, to prevent any unwanted visitors, Test slumped his body against the door, a hard thump soon following. Re-opening his eyes, he screamed, shocked at what was before him.

"Mick Foley?" he gasped. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"I came to visit you all." the Hardcore Legend lied, standing to his feet as he jumped - more like fell - from the bath tub that he was in, sleeping like a baby until the steroid freak entered.

"Yeah right." Test rolled his eyes, splashing cool water onto his face.

Foley brushed himself down, revealing the real reason for his presence. "Actually, I'm here coz it's cheaper than heating my own house." he shrugged, pulling a hand through his knotted hair. "Which room are you staying in?"

"None of your fucking business!" Test snarled, dabbing his face with his towel.

"Why is that?"

Test gave the three persona individual a raised eyebrow. "Coz I said so!"

"Is there any space left in your room?" Mick pestered, noticing the look of disapproval forming on the other man's face.

"No." he snapped, very bluntly.

"Oh, come on, there must be _some_ room for little old me." Mick continued to badger him.

Test's lips curled. "You did say little, right? Don't you mean obese?"

Not liking the slurs of the younger man, Foley half leapt into action, pulling out something very dear to him from his underwear; Mr. Socko.

"You listen to me and listen to me good," he began, pushing the taller man against the wall. "You either let me stay in your room or else you'll get Mr. Socko up your ass, then down your throat and I'll tell everyone your teeny secret!"

"Oh yeah, what's that?" Test smirked, not believing that poor old Mick Foley of all people had something over him.

Without uttering a word, Foley gestured his thump pushing down against his skin, removing it momentarily. "The office are already onto you anyway. Keep in my good books and I'll make sure nothing becomes of it." Mick promised, Test not convinced.

He paused. "Ok, but on one condition."

"Oh yeah, what's that?" Foley sweetly quizzed, pushing the sock puppet back down into the darkest depths of his pants.

"Don't tell Kelly about...you know. She hasn't worked it out for herself yet."

"You mean, she hasn't work it out from the size of little Test and the TESTicles, yet?" Foley quizzed tongue in cheek, Test clenching his fists.

"JUST GO BACK TO THE ROOM."

"Ok." the Hardcore Legend nodded, not in the least bit intimidated; he'd seen bigger chunks that steroid boy in his bowel movement. The two men making their way back to Foley's new room for a night of peace and tranquillity.

- - - - - - - - - -

By the time morning came, breakfast was fairly sedate. In a lot of ways, everyone was just exhausted, the effort of moving into a strange building _and _being woken up at midnight for a false fire drill a little too much for them, especially all in one day.

Mr. McMahon - straight after the morning meal - called for a meeting, to discuss last night's 'shenanigans'. Many of his staff rolled their eyes at this; they hated the Chairman's meetings, especially when he was in such a foul mood as he appeared to be.

Stomping into the meeting hall like a two year old losing it's favourite toy, Vince's mere facial expression set silence across the room and nerves on edge.

"Right, first things first." he began, removing his jacket. "Before I get into the incident last night, I believe Coachman has something he would like to discuss publicly."

"Thank you, Mr. McMahon." Jonathan smiled smarmily, taking his boss' places at the podium. "Now, as you know, for reasons beyond my control, I have been requested to stay in a room with some of Smackdown's supposed finest for the next few months - Ashley and The Hooliganz."

Many in the room looked around at the trio who were huddled together at the back of the hall.

"And, all of you should know that it is against Mr. McMahon's rules to have food on the property not purchased in the canteen."

Many in the hall glanced unknowingly at each other. They hadn't been bothered to read the hand booklet very carefully, if at all.

"So, to my embarrassment, somebody from that very room had placed food that shouldn't be here on my bed, smearing them into the sheets in what can only be described as a pile of bloody faeces."

Paul London began to laugh at his room mates poor choice of words.

"London - I know it was you."

"Prove it." One half of the WWE Tag Team Champions demanded, folding his arms across his chest in an unusually cocky manner.

"This." Coachman smirked, tipping the contents of one of Paul's duffle bags onto the table before him, many of the roster peering over in excitement.

"Oh, can I have this?" Chris Masters yelped, holding up a can of beans.

"You don't need any of them, the amount you were farting in the night!" Ashley giggled, thoroughly enjoying taking the piss out of the Masterpiece.

"You have no right to go in my property!" London argued, standing to his feet. "That's personal."

"And defacing my bed wasn't?" Jonathan smacked his lips, knowing fore well that he couldn't be answered back to after that statement.

"Do you mean defecating?" Kendrick piped up. Although he didn't agree with his partner's actions, he felt the need to stand up for him none the less.

"Besides, that was a rib. Not that you would know anything about being one of the boys in the back but we do this kind of thing often to one another." Paul replied to Jonathan's earlier comment. "We all know you won't hang around with us mere wrestlers who sacrifice life and limb to pay your salary week in, week out because you are far too busy licking Vince's ass!" he spat, Coachman shocked at how he was just spoken to.

Many of the wrestlers nodded their heads; whilst Coach flew around with the McMahon family in their private jets, they were slugging it out on the open roads, sleeping in uncomfortable hotel rooms away from their loving family homes for many nights at a time.

Not that Coachman would know anything about family life, of course.

"You've got a big gob on you, haven't ya?" Coach tittered to himself, removing his sun glasses. "We'll soon see about that!"

As a 'fight' chant erupted - led by none other than Edge and Randy Orton - the Boss stomped to his feet, the situation becoming much to out of hand.

"SHUT UP!" he roared, a fierce lion regaining his kingdom in the messy jungle. The whole room stood still as if it was frozen in time.

"Both of you are acting completely and utterly like children." Linda intervened, approving nods coming from Shane and Vince.

"Coachman, apologise to London - NOW!" Vince ordered, Jonathan following the strict demands. "Paul, I'm afraid I'm going to have to take serious action against you." the Chairman continued, waltzing over to the young man, a piece of paper held securely in his hand.

"As a fine, you shall make a check payable to Mr. V.K. McMahon for $1000."

"$1000?" Shawn gasped to Rebecca.

"That's ridiculous." Carlito muttered.

"Also, Paul, you shall spend three days in solitary confinement. You have an hour to collect everything you need before security will take you to your destination. That is all, meeting adjourned." McMahon concluded, 'No Chance In Hell' blaring out over the tanoy system as his family took off and left.

Glumly staring at the piece of paper held in his hands, Paul knew there was little to no point in trying to reason with the man; Once Vince had made his mind up, that was that.

"Are you ok, Paul?" Hunter made his way over to the black haired young man. Despite not being close to the lad, he felt sorry for him; he'd felt the wrath of the eldest McMahon one too many times before.

"Yeah, I'll be fine." London stormed from the room, going to pack up his belongings.

But what would the rest of the day bring for the Superstars of the WWE?

- - - - - - - - - -

Just who _did_ set off the Fire Alarm? What will Mr. McMahon do about it?

Check back for more, soon!


	10. Chapter 10: Lies, flip flops and jokes!

Pondering to himself in his lonely office, Vince rubbed his chin in despair, in hope that some form of inspiration would come to him. 'What to do about the fire vandals?' he mused to himself. He knew that he needed to face the situation head on yet it was impossible to even have a thirty minute meeting without even one argument erupting!

Phoning his executive assistant Coachman, McMahon realised there would only be one way in which to tackle the situation.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" the Coach quizzed, the two of them standing outside room number four. After much deliberation, the oldest McMahon had somehow managed to convince his protégé to embark on this mission with him. Even if all his job would entail was taking the odd note and pressing 'record' on the voice machine.

"Of course it is, dammit!" Vince told, banging forcefully on the door before him; nobody was about to distract him from fulfilling his duties. Just like nobody was to doubt his judgement.

After a few moments of waiting, the door creaked open, a hand beckoning them to come in.

Imploring them to take a seat, Sara Calaway placed her and her husbands youngest daughter Gracie into her bed, informing her spouse of their guests. He was presumably sat in the next section of the room, out of the glare of others.

"He will be here in a second." she spoke, taking a seat on the edge of her and her husbands bed as Vince and Jonathan occupied the two armchairs available.

"What about Kane?" the chairman questioned, not wanting to make half a visit.

"Oh, he'll be back in a minute." Sara replied in a very vague fashion.

Surely enough - remarkably at the same time - the Brother's of Destruction both sauntered into the room, each a little annoyed to see their boss sat there with every bodies least favourite Intern GM.

"Vince." the Deadman mumbled, taking a seat next to his wife. "What are you doing here?"

"We are here on business." Coachman interrupted, Vince's stare informing him to be quiet.

"We are simply here to try and shed some light on last night's situation."

"Which one, the fire alarm going off or that big goon Khali wrecking the bathroom for the second time in twelve hours?" the Big Red Machine grunted.

Vince smirked at his employees cynical choice of words. "Just the fire alarm...for now."

"Where were you at midnight?" the Coach questioned, pressing record on the tape player, thrusting it under the Undertaker's nose.

"Get that piece of shit away from me!" he demanded, jolting the Coach's hand away.

"I-I'm sorry, T-Taker, we just need to un-understand who did it." Jonathan stammered, not wanting to get on the wrong side of the Phenom.

"Where the hell do you think we were?" Sara interjected "We were in bed and listening out for Chasey and Gracie in case they wanted anything in the night."

"Can you vouch for that, Kane?" Vince questioned, seeing hate in Sara's eyes; He wanted nothing more than to get out of room number four, his manhood still intact.

"Of course." Kane glanced up, his frame still stood firmly near the door. He couldn't wait until the douche bags left the room.

"We-well, uh, thank you." Coachman responded, hastily standing to his feet. "We'll see ourselves out."

"Thank God." the Phenom remarked, waiting until both members of 'authority' left his presence.

"Well, that was helpful!" Coachman rolled his eyes, putting the tape recorder in his pocket. "Let's face it, no one's gonna be brutally honest. Just like no one's gonna dob their mate or brother in." he spoke truthfully, removing his sunglasses.

"What do you suggest I do, get a lie detector and strap them all up to that?" Vince asked, irritability clouding his voice.

Jonathan knew from now on he needed to be tactful. "Well, at least we would be certain we would know who - if anybody - was telling the truth or not." he replied, hugging his bosses shoulders.

"First off all, get your hands off me." Vince demanded, wiping any 'dirt' from his jacket. "Secondly, I can't afford to buy meaningless crap!" he yelled, the Coach realising he'd said exactly the wrong thing.

Before either man could say anymore, two men bound to aggravate the situation came fumbling down the corridor.

Complete with snorkels and flip flops, the DX duo trundled down the hall ways, with nothing obviously better to do.

"What the hell are you wearing?" Vince shouted, their mere presence exasperating to him.

"These things?" Shawn questioned rhetorically, both men removing the mouth pieces.

"Just in case there's another disaster in room five." the King of King's informed, the Chairman offering a pitiful look to his only Son-In-Law.

"Well, have a day!" the Heartbreak Kid chirpily smirked, the D Generation X gang making their ways back to room number one.

"Now, where do you suggest we go?" Mr. McMahon evoked thought, turning to face his intern.

"Ummm, how about room two?" Coachman shrugged, not overly involved with Vince's insane ideas.

"Good idea! Come on, let's go." the Boss praised, most uncharacteristically, the two men bounding down the hall way.

Once arriving at room two, Coachman knocked after getting the nod from the Boss. After a few moments of nothingness, Miss. Wilson opened the door a tad.

"Mr. McMahon, what are you doing here?" she questioned, most shocked to see the two men at the door. "I haven't done anything wrong...have I?"

Her sweet tone made even the heartless Vince smile. "That depends," he began, himself and his intern stepping inside. "Did you set the fire alarm off last night?"

"No of course not!" she exclaimed, disgusted that anyone would think that of her.

"I thought not." Coachman smiled, noting the blondes soft expressions.

Making their way further into the room, the duo inspected the four men present in the room; all of them troublemakers, at least in their minds.

"Morning, gentlemen." Vince greeted in a very civilised fashion, much to the surprise of the three wrestlers, Cena and Torrie. "I'm wondering if you could help me with a little problem I've been having?"

"Sorry, we don't do extensions here." Cena chirped, taking a peek at Vince's manhood.

Mr. McMahon scowled. He didn't appreciate the comment very much. "No - John - and unless you want to be stripped of that championship belt I suggest you apologise!"

"Sorry." the WWE title holder's lips widen, as did his eyes, Edge turning to titter at his misfortunes.

"I wondered if any of you knew anything about what happened last night. After all, it was along this corridor in which the fire alarm was broken." the Chairman explained, taking a seat at one of the armchairs, Coachman copying his actions.

Carlito exchanged a worried look with the Diva.

"Ummm, actually, Mr. McMahon, just before midnight there were some strange mumblings coming from outside." the King of Cool confessed, spiking up his afro a little.

"I thought that sound was coming from the double bed in this room!" John chuckled, flicking through a men's magazine, Randy and the Rated R Superstar growling at him simultaneously.

"Can you be anymore specific?" Coachman asked, getting the tape recorder ready, as everyone else in the room ignored the last comment from Raw's Champion.

"No, that's all we really heard, just muffles." Torrie shrugged.

"What were the two of you doing up?" Vince intruded.

"Well...I'd just been to the loo a couple of minutes before hand. There was no one out there then, not what I saw anyway. When I got back in here, Carlito wanted to make sure I was ok, that's all." the former Playboy cover model explained.

"You three didn't hear or see anything then?" Vince directed his comment to the other members of the room.

"No, Sir, we were fast asleep." the Legend Killer replied, very matter of factly.

"Yeah, I noticed this morning how close you and Edge were snuggled up together." John continued to wisecrack, much to the distaste of the former Tag Team Champions.

"Were not!" the youngest Orton yelled in response.

"Were too!"

"Were not!"

"Were too!"

"Were not!"

"Were too!"

As the petty argument persisted, the others present trying urgently to stop it, Vince was no closer to finding out the fire alarm vandals.

But would he be any closer when a vital piece of information is put in his direction?

Check back for more, soon!

- - - - - - - - - -

First off, thanks to LC Hime, I Love ZigZag, rebornandrenewed, wannabediva19, DX Diva, xzanessaxrox and Mint Dust for all reviewing the last chapter, I'm glad you guys are still enjoying this!

Secondly, if any of you would like to read a Shawn and Triple H slash type piece, 'Hold Me' is up. Thanks to LCHime, WeMissYouTrish, SaraHHH and DX Diva for reviewing that too!

Finally, if any of you have a myspace page and would like to add me, let me know!

Thank you for reading - please review!


	11. Chapter 11: Lets get down to business

"Thank God we're out of there." Coachman gasped, slouching in one of the many Italian leather chairs in Vince McMahon's office.

Bringing the steaming hot coffee to his lips, the oldest McMahon nodded. "True. But it still doesn't bring me any closer to finding out who the vandals are."

After two unsuccessful trips to room four and room two, occupied by the Undertaker and his family with Kane, the latter between the bitchy foursome of WWE Champion John Cena, Randy Orton, Edge and Carlito, the duo decided it was time for a well deserved coffee break.

"I can't believe how petty Cena is." Jonathan chuckled lightly to himself, resting his bald head against his palms.

"The whole room's completely mental!" Vince remarked, taking another gulp of his drink. "Except for Torrie - she's fine!" he perved, his eyes turning into a state of dreamy haze.

"You old dog you." the Coach tisked, flipping his mobile phone. "So, what do you suggest we do now? Wait?"

"Waiting around here for people to turn themselves in will be a slower process than Hulk Hogan's retirement speech!" McMahon snarled, throwing the paper cup into the metal bin a few feet away from his solid oak desk.

"I know, sir, but we can't just keep trailing around rooms all day, listening to blind commentary that we don't even know is true."

Just as those words escaped the Intern Raw General Manager's lips, an envelope was slipped under the door. Spying each other up and down cautiously, Jonathan bent down in order to pick the mystery letter up.

Snatching it from his employees hands, Vince saw his name written in red on the front of the envelope. Ripping it open, his eyes widened as he read it in his mind.

The ever impatient Coachman peeked over Mr. McMahon's shoulder, who in return clutched the piece of paper close to his chest. "What does it say?" he pestered, hating to be kept in the dark.

- - - - - - - - - -

In the most extreme room in the building, the five members glanced around nervously at each other, all deeply anticipating something bad was about to occur.

All except for one.

"Guys, why are we so worried?" the Whole F'N Show questioned, lying down on his half of the bed he shared with his wife.

"Last night - duh!" Maria bounced her hand off her forehead in a dumb yet mocking way.

"I know that." RVD rolled his eyes. "But _why_ are you guys so hecked up about this whole thing?"

Before anyone in the room could reply, a thump came at the door. Being the one closest to it, Sonia was automatically volunteered for the task of answering it.

"Hello, Mr. McMahon." Maria shone her toothy grin naively, unaware of the distilled, unpleasant expression occupying the Boss' face.

"I'm here on business." he growled, ordering CM Punk and Sabu to get up from the chairs.

Both Vince and Jonathan sat there, staring at the worker's, not uttering a word.

"Is everything ok, Mr. McMahon?" the ECW youngster quiz, noting his mannerisms.

"Nope. Everything is _not_ ok." he snapped in return, fiddling about in his pocket.

"What's it got to do with us?" Mr. Tuesday Night questioned, rather arrogantly.

"This." the elder man bluntly stated, demanding he read the paper clasped firmly in his hands. "What's the meaning of all this?"

The crisp, white lined paper was completely blank except for three words; Extreme Fire Alert.

"What?" Sabu cried.

"How do you link this to us?" Robbie V continued to stand his and his friends ground.

Vince swiped his greying hair from his exhausted face. "Because, Rob, you are apart of ECW which is meant to be 'Extreme'." he informed, everyone glancing nervously at one another.

"Good point." Rob stepped back, not really sure how to respond to the Chairman's last statement.

Suddenly, the Raw Diva threw herself in front of the Boss, tears tumbling from her cheeks, as she prayed up to him. "Ok, ok, it was us...please o please don't fire us!" she pleaded, everyone else in the room shaking their heads.

"Get up!" CM Punk forced his girlfriend to stand, grabbing her as gently as possible by the arm. "It wasn't us."

"Oh yeah - prove it." Coachman folded his arms across his chest in a very arrogant manner.

"We shouldn't have to prove it, you should be able to take our word!" RVD yelled, a strange sense of anger welling up inside of him; a bubbling caldron.

"Haven't you got any security tapes or anything?" Sonia shrugged, trying to enforce her husbands rampage.

"We would have but somebody turned them off." Jonathan replied.

Realising that it was lunch time, Vince glanced at his watch. "Ok, whilst you are having your meal you five might want to reconsider everything you have just said. A little later on, I shall return, and I want the honest truth, you understand me?" he spoke firmly, his eyes bulging from his head as he stormed power walking from the room.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Lunch time was upon everyone in Stamford, Connecticut. Buzz was still going around who it was exactly setting off the fire alarm last night, no body none the wiser.

"It has to be the 'ECW' crew." the Legend Killer rolled his eyes mockingly, snarling in their direction as the collected their 'food'...or slop as many of the rosters began to call it.

"How'd you work that one out, Sherlock?" the Heartbreak Kid said from across the other side of the table; him and Triple H had the displeasure of sitting on Randy and Edge's table, as there was so little space once all of the main cliques had found a seat.

"Well, look at them. Last night, all of us literally fell out of the door in little more than shorts and a thin t-shirt, they waltz out in sweat pants and coats."

"You wouldn't have even been wearing shorts and a thin t-shirt if it wasn't for me!" the WWE Champion laughed, Randy wanting to march right over to him and give him the beating of a life time. Alas, his lunch would get cold if he did that.

"Never judge a book by it's cover." Shawn advised, taking a gulp of diet Coke.

"Yeah, if we judge you by the way you looked, we would think you weren't engaged to a chick, if ya know what I'm saying!" Cena chuckled.

"Ignore the punk." Edge advised, taking note of some of the things he learnt during his Anger Management class. "You'll be the better man if you don't listen to him."

"And if we were judging Edge, he'd be in the same category as Orton!" the Game smirked, two of the wrestlers present less than amused.

- - - - - - - - - -

Meanwhile, Ashley was lurking around the hall ways, in the deepest, darkest depths of Stamford, trying her best _not_ to attract attention - for a change; she was visiting Paul London, to take him food and to - more importantly - keep him company since being locked in solitary confinement.

"Paul?" she whispered, staggering against walls in the pitch black. "Are you there?"

"Yeah - who is it?"

"Ashley." she replied, stepping forward and glowing the torch onto her face before his.

"Oh, hey, how are you?" one half of the WWE Tag Team Champions stood, more than happy to see the future Playboy cover girl.

"I'm good. What have you been up to?"

"Not a lot." he shrugged, kicking his heels. "There isn't a lot of fun to be had behind bars."

That's how Paul literally was; behind bars. The black, dingy cage McMahon had enclosed him in was rid of natural sunlight, bringing disturbing memories from horror films to both Smackdown stars minds.

"I brought you some food." the Diva continued. "And a blanket - you know - to keep you warm." she smiled cosily, carefully passing him everything from the tiny gaps in between the bars.

"Thanks Ash, you're a star!" Paul exclaimed as quietly as he could.

"Don't worry, if I can't get you out within the next twenty-four hours, it's only two more days." she reasoned in a guilty fashion. "Then you came come back to my room - where you belong."

As their eyes connected, suddenly, there came the all too familiar sound of stomping coming down the concrete corridor.

"I'll have to go, see you later." she mumbled, blowing him a kiss.

"Bye Ashley." Paul uttered, most downcast.

But would he be locked in solitary confinement for too much longer?

- - - - - - - - - -

Next time in 'Necessary Evil'...

Will it finally be revealed which group - or person - was behind the fire alarm incident? Are there more revelations to come?

Check back for more, soon!

- - - - - - - - - -

Thank you so much to the fantastic reaction to last chapter from I love ZigZag, Mint Dust, LCHime, loony ninja, (), SaraHHH, DX Diva, The Heartbreak Babe and wannabediva19. I hope everyone enjoys this chapter just as much!


	12. Chapter 12: Revelations at long last!

After dinner, Vince McMahon kept solidly to his word. Stomping heavily up the metal plated steps in the grand offices in Stamford, Connecticut, he was now more than ever determined to get to the very bottom of the fire alarm mystery. Even if that was the last thing he was ever to do.

"This is it, Coach." he rubbed his hands together in glee, standing directly outside the most Extreme room in the building. "We've got them! They _must_ confess!" he cried.

"Uh, Sir, you don't know that it was definitely them..."

"Don't talk shit Jonathan, of course it was!"

Before Coachman had time to reply, Vince kicked the door down. His fists clenched, his forehead coated in sweat, he growled like an Alsatian with rabbis, ready to savage anyone opposing his authority.

As he barged his way through the door, a solo man waging war on a country, the Extremists blinked blankly at him; really, none of them cared less about this incident anymore. They knew they weren't to blame and that was that.

Puffing and panting, Vince glared at the combination of three men and two women. "Right, time's up, tell me exactly what happened the other night. You were the ones who set off the fire alarms, weren't you?"

Twisting there necks and shrugging to each other, CM Punk was the first to speak. "I'll admit, Vince, we weren't in our room last night at twelve o'clock."

"Ha, I knew it!" McMahon cackled, an enormous smile erupting across his face.

"He never said that." Sabu chimed in, his face creasing.

"Yeah, let the man finish!" Sonia barked, intimidating everyone in the room, at least a little.

CM Punk continued. "As I was trying to say, we _were_ out last night at midnight, but we did _not_ set off the fire alarms."

"And _you_ expect _me_ to believe that?" the Chairman scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"Yes, yes you should." Maria nodded, patting her boyfriend on the back in a dim fashion, nearly knocking him flying.

Coachman tutted, fiddling with his silk tie. "Well, if you five didn't do it, who did?"

Barely having time for him to spit the words from his mouth, the door flew open once again, no one comprehending just who it was trespassing.

"KHALI?" Vince's mouth dropped, his voice higher. "What the fuck are you doing in here?" he yelled, his eyes narrowing at the sight of Daivari scurrying after him.

"Mr. McMahon," the Smackdown Cruiserweight panted. "We have something to tell you."

The exasperated look on the Bosses face followed after minutes of inaudible shouting from the 'Great' one.

"Daivari, tell this fucking moron to shut up and tell me what the hell's going on?" Vince demanded, his voice alone meaning business.

Clearing his throat, Daivari began to speak. "What he is trying to say Sir is..."

"Get a move on, I haven't got all day!" The Chairman ordered, his expression as stern as his tone.

"What Khali means is Sir, basically, he is the one that turned all of the cameras off and set off the fire alarm."

"What?" Coachman sharply spluttered, the Boss imitating his actions.

"If this is a rib it isn't a very funny one." Vince scowled, knowing deep down exactly what the answer was to be.

"I'm afraid this isn't a joke at all." Daivari shook his head solemnly. "I'm sorry, I just couldn't stop him."

"Tell me what the hell happened...NOW!" McMahon yelled, his own distinct style of frustration becoming very apparent.

His lips frowning, Daivari began to reminisce. "Well, it all started off like this..."

_Flashback_

_Waking from his sleep, Khali let out a disturbed mumble...well, no more disturbed than usual!_

_"What is it, the Great one?" his smaller partner quizzed, sitting up on the bunk below once hearing his grunts._

_"MWAHLEHBAHAMAKIA!"_

_"Oh, you need the toilet?"_

_Suddenly, the ruler of the Smackdown Kingdom awoke from his slumber, disgusted at all of the noise being made. "What is going on, peasants?"_

_"It's ok, Khali needs the loo." the smaller man informed an unimpressed King Booker._

_"You had better go with him."_

_"Me? Why me?" Daivari yelped, wanting nothing more than to stay snuggled up amongst the warm sheets._

_"You're the only person stupid enough to understand a single word he is saying!" the six time World Champion spoke truthfully, for the first time in many months._

_"Alright...C'mon, Khali." Daivari sighed, the unlikely duo heading outside, closing the door as quietly as humanly possible...for a man of over seven feet!_

_Managing not to cause so much destruction so far, the two men stumbled over to where their bathroom is...or was._

_"Maybe we should use someone else's." Daivari decided, gazing down at the remains of the cracked floor below, the product of Khali's earlier clumsiness._

_They strolled on for a few more moments, soon arriving at room number seven's facilities._

_"We should be alright in here." Daivari decided, knocking on the door. There was no reply, Khali barely managing to open the door._

_Abruptly, a scream came from the bathroom, a sight that either man ever imagined seeing; Mick Foley sat on the toilet semi naked!_

_"ARGH!" Khali cried, his body some how flying back in the wall. His head slammed against the video recording camera, dropping to the floor as his elbow smashed with a spasm into the fire alarm alert._

_"QUICK - LEG IT!" Daivari urged hastily, Khali waddling as quickly as he could after the agile cruiserweight as many of the superstars began to appear from their rooms, the disruption of the over bearing sirens not a welcomed one._

_End of Flashback._

"So you see, Mr. McMahon, Sir, it was a complete and utter accident." Daivari attempted to reason.

Jonathan stoked his chin. "Yeah, if you remember, Mr. McMahon, if one of the camera's is dropped all of them are broken - it's a problem with the wiring that we never did get fixed."

The chairman ignored the last comment, as Daivari's face lit up thinking he was not entirely to blame for the incident, hoping that the punishment would not be as severe.

"That's all very well and good but that still doesn't explain exactly what you five were doing." Vince re-directed his attentions, glad in a way that the majority of the bizarre mystery had been solved.

"I was about to get onto that." CM Punk began, a little agitated. "We _were_ going to play a prank."

Seeing the Chairman's expression drop, Rob Van Dam - who quite frankly could care less - took over the situation. "When the fire alarm went off, we scattered, unsure as to whether it was a real one or not."

"Dammit!" Vince roared, his emotions extraordinarily high. "You people take the piss!"

"MWAHAOWABAOAHNTPAJ!"

"What was that, Daivari?" Jonathan questioned, no one in the room understanding a single word to come from the Giant's mouth.

"Basically, he said, he did need to take the piss."

Growling, Vince stepped away from the scene, peering to the car park below. "To say that I am unhappy with all of you is a vast understatement - just a minute, what the hell's Foley doing here?" McMahon's pitch heightened, thinking back to the memories of the Cruiserweight.

"He said something to Test about it being cheaper than heating his own house." Sabu piped up.

Turning to his Intern, the eldest McMahon sighed heavily. "Did you know anything about this, Coachman?"

"No, I didn't Sir, or I would have come and told you right away."

"Yes. After we've dealt with these jackasses, we'll kick that fat piece of crap out as well." the Boss decided angrily.

The Coach smirked wickedly. "Good plan."

"As for you 'Extremists' I am not going to fine you on this occasion because of you coming clean about the whole situation, eventually." Vince decided, much to the relief of room eight's occupants. "As for you two, you are spending the next five days in jail."

"Jail?" Daivari gulped, feeling an icy cold sweat droplet rain from his forehead.

"Well, down stairs in solitary confinement...with the two of you." Vince shrugged, not needing a reason to tweak his explanation.

"Uh, Sir, what are we gonna do? London's still down there...and we've only got one cell."

"Shit!" Vince cursed. "Kick him out for me, Jonathan. Part of Daivari's punishment is spending a hundred and twenty hours with Khali!"

As the door creaked open, a familiar face reappeared, much to the delight of the pranksters. "DAMN!" Called Ron Simmons, disappearing after a crowd of laughter.

Delighted to be freed, Paul London scampered back to his room, gratefully beaming in all of the sunlight Stamford had to offer. He couldn't wait to be back in the room where his friends were, even though he had to share with two men he couldn't stand, that didn't bother him at that moment in time as his grin continued to shine.

But would he be smiling for very long?

Check back for more, soon!

- - - - - - - - - -

Hey first of all a big thank you to DX Diva, SaraHHH, I love ZigZag, The Heartbreak Babe and rebornandrenewed for reading and reviewing Chapter 10.

A few of you have said about the chapter length. Basically, I do it in shorter installments as I'm at school and you get more chapters in a shorter amount of time by me doing it like that.

Please review!


	13. Chapter 13: Anger and propositions

Unlocking the door to his shared room , Paul London let out a huge sigh of relief; it felt good to be back in a more homely environment than a cold, lonely cell, all by himself.

Plonking his keys down on the desk, there was only one person in the room, someone that he had possibly missed more than anyone else in the entire building - Ashley.

He stood still and silently for a few moments, admiring her from afar. Alas, he knew that she hadn't expected he was present; she was too engrossed in her book as well as her over bearingly loud heavy metal music screeching from her I Pod headphones.

Now with the feeling she was being watched, she glanced up, not really paying too much attention. Then, she looked up again, her broad, white smile lighting up her then saddened face. "Paul!" she cried in sheer excitement, dumping her music player on the bed. "You got out!"

"Well, technically, yes." he nodded, glad that she was as ecstatic to see him as he was her.

"What happened?" the Diva asked quickly, wanting to know all of the unclear details.

"Vince and Coach came in, telling me that I had to get out a make room for Khali and Daivari. Apparently, they are the ones responsible for the fire alarm the other night." London informed.

"No way! I would have put money on it being the ECW freaks!" she exclaimed, shocked by the recent revelations.

"I know, but never judge a book by it's cover." one half of the WWE Tag Team Champions advised. "I think Vinney Mac is calling a meeting about it a little later on, from what I can make out, so keep hushed about it."

"I will do." the Playboy Model agreed, continuing to smile at the black haired gentleman.

Paul broke away from his own selfish thoughts. "So, where's Brian? I needed..."

Before the words broke free from London's mouth, the man he was about to search for entered.

"Hey Paul, what happened?" Kendrick quizzed in a very passive manner.

Paul gave him a weird look; he thought Brain would be more excited to see his best mate. "Vince and Coachman released me from the cell. There's gonna be a meeting about it later."

"Oh, ok." Brian shrugged, more interested in his duffle bag and bottled mineral water.

"Where are you going?" Paul questioned, trying to make a little more conversation going.

"Oh, just to the gym."

Feeling his biceps, Paul wanted an excuse to go with him. "Yeah, I'd better head there, my arms feel a little weedier. Give me a couple of minutes and I'll come with you."

"Just meet me down there." Brian ordered, exiting the room as if he'd got a major chip on his shoulder.

Ashley - who had barely took her eyes off of Paul - spoke up. "He's been like this ever since you left. I dunno what the hell's up with him." she said, her tone a little worried.

Gathering his stuff together, Paul sighed heavily. "Don't worry, I'll find out. You stay here and I'll tell you a little later on."

"Ok." the blonde frowned, a little disappointed to be left on her own, for more reasons than just the one.

- - - - - - - - - -

Watching the young cruiserweight enter the gym, slamming the door back against the wall, Triple H turned to face his partner in crime. "Gee, he looks happy."

"Maybe he's taken my title of the Angry Young Man!" Shawn tittered, now able to see the funny side of the nickname.

"Yeah - hey, isn't that Foley over there?" Hunter quizzed, pointing over to the doorway.

"I think it is!" the Heartbreak Kid's eyes widened, not quite understanding what the Game was meaning. "What is Mick doing in a gym?"

"No, silly." he replied, slapping the Icon playfully on the arm. "I mean, what is Foley doing _here_, in the Stamford Offices?"

"Oh." Shawn blushed a little, his sometimes spacey nature getting the better of him. "I dunno. Maybe we should ask him."

Alas, they didn't have to move a single inch; the man of the three personas came bounding over to them, his plump face flapping as he moved. "Hey, how are you guys doing?"

"We're fine thanks but, uh, what are you doing here?" the King of Kings inquired, not knowing that the man he'd faced on many occasions was even in the state of Connecticut let alone the same building.

"Well, everyone else knows so I might as well tell you." the Hardcore Legend decided. "It's cheaper living here than paying for my own electric, heating, water..."

The Showstoppa' gave Mick a startled and worried gaze. "You have to be kidding me?"

"Nope."

"You mean, you'd sooner live in _this_ shit hole with a bunch of morons than in your own, peaceful home?" Hunter quizzed in astonishment.

"Well, yeah." Mick shrugged very nonchalantly.

"What an idiot!" Triple H muttered to a sniggering HBK.

Unaware of the last comment, the man of three personas absent mindingly glanced around the vast gym. "Wow, this is the most amazing gym I've ever been in!"

"Yep, well when you've only been in three gyms, all of which doubled up as a toilet, this one does look pretty snazzy!" the Game wise cracked, slurping his Diet Soda.

As Shawn and Hunter chuckled at the last joke made, a rushed Paul London dashed into the room.

"Hey, buddy, you been released from jail?" the Heartbreak Kid inquired politely.

"Yeah, I'll explain later." he responded, marching over to where his tag team partner was.

Lifting another hefty weight, another grimace came past the lips of Brian Kendrick. Noticing Paul but not acknowledging him, he continued his work load, trying his best to concentrate on the matter in hand.

Paul, on the other hand, wanted desperately to get the other man's attentions. Looking Kendrick up and down, he examined his own physique. "Ya know, it really shows that I've missed a couple of days work out! Look at your body compared to mine." the dark haired dude continued, flexing his muscles. Alas, not a word passed the mouth of his partner.

His usually cheery, jokey expression diminished into a pissed off frown. "Brian, will you at least answer me?"

Still nothing.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Paul cried, pushing the dirty blonde haired man.

Placing the weights down on the stand, Brian let out a huge sigh of grievance. He bent over, picking up his water and dropping his leather gloves. "Nothing to do with you."

As a crowd began to gather, Paul peered around, shaking his head in annoyance. "Why the hell won't you give me a better answer than that?"

"Because...coz you don't deserve one." Brian spat, walking away from the situation without a trace.

His hands on his hips, London pushed his long hair out of his eyes. "Dammit!" he whispered angrily, heading over to a less crowded area of the gym, hoping to let his frustrations out on the punching bag.

Meanwhile, the rest of the room's noise level dropped; the boss had just entered, looking none too happy at the lump now occupying a seat at the juice bar.

"Foley!" Vince bellowed, the Hardcore Legend nearly spilling his drink down his aging, ripped top. "What the heck are you doing here?"

"I'm here because it's cheaper than paying for my own expenses." he repeated, looking deeply into the liquid in the tall glass tumbler. "Oh, and to visit you about a business proposition." he continued, as almost a second thought not ready to be mentioned.

Smirking at the prospect of business, McMahon ordered Mick to follow him to his office, Jonathan Coachman not too far behind.

- - - - - - - - - -

Elsewhere, Mick wasn't the only one with proposals on his mind. In room number two, Torrie Wilson grunted a little to herself. Hearing her struggled, Randy Orton and Edge looked up at the blonde, becoming less distracted from the Playboy magazine laying on their bed.

"Is anything the matter, gorgeous?" the Legend Killer quizzed sweetly, Edge rolling his eyes at his team mates choice of words.

"Uh, it's nothing really...it's just...Carlito will insist on using my comb to brush his afro with and, as you can see, he doesn't clean it out." the Diva sighed, holding up the matted mess on the thin accessory.

"He really should respect your property more." the Rated R Superstar tisked, getting up from the bed, both men now standing firmly behind Miss. Wilson.

Noticing the presence's behind her, she spun herself around, feeling a little insecure. "Ummm, guys, is everything ok?"

"Everything is fine, Torrie, why wouldn't it be?" the youngest Orton asked, resting his hands against his trousers.

"It's just...you two have been awfully nice to me today, I don't know why but it's just very unusual."

"We are always nice, isn't that right Randall?" Edge retorted, nodding over to his bed buddy.

Randy did his best not to scowl. Through gritted teeth, he replied. "Yes, we are always very, _very_ nice, especially to young, attractive ladies."

"That's not what I heard." Torrie tittered, folding up a freshly ironed tank top.

"Torrie, there's something we need to talk to you about." the Canadian spoke.

"Yeah, something that will not be pleasant but something that we need to tell you about. Desperately." Randy enforced his partners words.

But what exactly is on the crafty duo's minds?

- - - - - - - - - -

Next time in 'Necessary Evil'...

Will Brian and Paul reconcile their differences? What revelations will arise for Torrie to conquer?

Check back for more, soon!


	14. Chapter 14: Everything's cool, right?

"What the hell is up with you?" Paul London yelled, stomping his way into room number eight. Blankly, Ashley peeped up from her clothes catalogue, worried that she'd done something wrong.

"Is everything ok?" she quizzed sweetly, standing from her seat.

Paul sighed, pushing his black hair away from his eyes, only for it to droop back down again. "Yeah, sorry, it's not you I'm mad with, it's Brian. He keeps ignoring me. It's so childish, so immature. I wish he would talk to me instead of keep running away. He's beginning to piss me off. Badly."

Being so engrossed in each other, neither Ashley nor Paul recognised a third presence entering the room, appearing angry and more than just upset.

"So, that's what you think, huh? That I'm childish, immature and I'm beginning to piss you off?" Kendrick replied in barely a whisper. "See you around, 'buddy'. I'm outta here."

With that, the door crashed shut, Paul shaking his head at his carelessness. "I'll go and check if he's ok."

"Don't!" Ashley cried, grabbing the man by the arm. "I mean, well, give him time, ya know, to cool off."

Paul shook his head once again. "No, I need to go and see if he is ok. Now."

And with that, the Dirty Diva was left to her own devices in the room, all alone without even the masterpiece for comfort.

- - - - - - - - - -

As their conversation continued, Vince led one of his new cronies into the dinning hall, preparing to show him one of the least prized areas in the building.

"Over there is the kitchen." McMahon commented, pointing over to the doorway, his voice barely louder than a whisper. "We didn't hire very expensive chefs because, you know, we can't afford to at the moment."

As the chairman continued with his conversation, two men were hunting round in the kitchen, in desperate need of filling their rumbling stomachs.

"Ummm, lets see." one of the Degenerates muttered under his breath, crouching before the large white appliance. "Hunter, come look at this!" he spoke as softly as possibly, for fear of being caught in the act, as the duo peered into the fridge.

Triple H, a man that enjoys his food and - in particular - fine dining could not believe what was before him. "Shawn, buddy, how long do you think that meatloaf's been in there for?"

Both men trying their best not to puke at the sight of the green, mould encrusted ball of fat and saturates, the Heartbreak Kid brought his wrist against his nose to prevent any unwanted smells creeping where he considered they didn't belong. "Urgh, man, I don't wanna hazard a guess!"

"Better off sticking with a sandwich I think." the Game replied, wondering off over to the bread bin.

Pushing the festering plate to the very back of the fridge, the Icon spoke again. "What did you want bringing for your sandwich?"

"I don't mind - ham, cheese, mustard, tomatoes...anything but that rotting meatloaf!"

Collecting all of the items his muscular arms could manage, Shawn stumbled to the other side of the facility, dropping everything carelessly onto a heap on the counter.

Shooting his head up, the Boss raised an eyebrow. "That's funny, I-I'm sure I heard a noise coming from the kitchen."

"Nah, might just be your imagination." Coachman tried to re-assure.

"I'm sure it isn't." Vince grimaced, hated being spoken to as if he was a little child, uncapable of thinking for themselves.

"You know, I'm sure I heard something too, come to think of it." the third man chimed in.

With another clatter and cursed mumblings following, the eldest McMahon took it upon himself - and the other two men - to explore what they thought they'd heard.

Bursting into the room, the three men saw a sight they never expected to.

"MICHAELS? HUNTER? What the hell are you doing in here?" Vince yelped, the DX duo nearly choking on their half of the sandwich.

Exchanging worried expressions, Shawn was the first to speak up. "Ummm, just having a bite to eat."

"That's what meal times are for, if I'm not mistaken." Jonathan piped up, using his authority in the most arrogant of ways.

The King of Kings growled lightly. "We know but, sorry to burst the bubble but the food tastes like liquefied shite!"

"And it looks that way too." the Showstoppa' endorsed his mates words.

Going back on everything he recently told the third man, Vince mockingly choked on his own saliva. "We hired some of the best chef's in the land, dammit, and all you do is insult them!"

"That still doesn't explain why you two are stood in the middle of the kitchen, eating a sandwich at four o'clock in the afternoon." the accomplice spoke. "After all, dinner time is in only two hours."

"Well, we'd had a few busy hours in the gym." the Heartbreak Kid attempted to reason. "And after all of that gruelling, tiring exercise, there is nothing better than having a good sandwich to retain some of the calories. Isn't that right, buddy?" Shawn spied his room mate.

The Game smirked. "It is Shawn, not that Foley over there would know anything about gruelling, tiring exercise." he wisecracked, much to the displeasure of his Father-In-Law.

"That's enough!" McMahon demanded, his eyes narrowing just a little bit, to inform his workers that he meant serious business.

"Yeah and it's Mr. Foley to you from now on." the Hardcore Legend interjected, Coachman nodding in agreement.

D Generation X raised an eyebrow at each other.

"Mr. Foley?" Shawn mumbled, not understanding.

"Why after all of these years, Mick, do I have to start calling _you _'Mr. Foley'?" the Cerebral Assassin queried.

"All will be revealed in an hour." the Coach told the puzzled faction.

"For now, I want you two to spread the word that there will be a meeting at five pm sharp which everyone - and I mean _everyone _- MUST attend." the eldest McMahon ordered very pompously.

Triple H grimaced in anger. "Hey, we aren't your gofers - get someone else to do it, like Coachman. All he does is make smart ass comments all of the time."

"You do as you're told or I've got two words for ya!" Vince mimicked, his gormless smile coming out in full force as the best mates tutted to one another.

"Enjoy your meatloaf for dinner, boys." Coachman chimed up in an equally annoying and antagonising fashion.

As the Chairman and Raw Intern General Manager left the room, Mick had a few choice words before he departed. "Oh yeah and 'Hunter' - it's still Mr. Foley to you." he tittered, leaving the room buddies confused and peeved by the events that just occurred in front of them.

- - - - - - - - - -

Back in room two, Torrie Wilson was all on her own, sat painting her nails a bright and - some would argue - tacky pink, ready for being on the road with Raw for the next few days.

Gazing at her cuticles, she was in dire need of a manicure. However, being the pigheaded jerk that he was, Vince refused her request to go out for a few hours and get one, on the grounds that it was 'wasting company time', whatever that meant.

A few more moments of silence passed away and she wasn't about to be alone for too much longer...

Bursting into the room, unintentionally loudly, Carlito draped his jacket over the back of the dressing table chair. "I just saw Triple H and Shawn."

"Oh yeah, what did they want?" the blonde questioned coldly, not really wanting to be apart of the gossip. Or anything much to do with the Cool one in fact.

"Not a lot. We have to go downstairs in a few minutes for a meeting though." the serial apple eater remembered.

Blowing on her nails in an attempt to dry them, she replied with a very flat 'ok'.

Carlito eyed her up and down. One too many times before he had been accused of being 'insensitive' to the fairer sex. Alas, his mission was the exact opposite this time.

"Are you ok?"

Torrie glanced up, eye contact weary, almost non existent. "Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"

"It's just...you've hardly spoke to me today. Everything's cool between us, right?"

"Yes, everything's 'cool'." the former Playboy cover model responded sarcastically, plonking the nail varnish bottle at the side of her bed on the peeling, white dresser.

"Are you sure?" the King of Cool quizzed, getting very concerned about her state of mind.

"Yep - fine." she glared, slamming the door behind her, the Cool one left in a daze of confusion.

But he be the only one confused by the end of McMahon's meeting?

Check back for more, soon!

- - - - - - - - - -

Hey guys. Thanks to all of you who reviewed last time - it's great to hear you are still enjoying the story. Hope you liked this chapter!


	15. Chapter 15: More BS and plan making!

As the Superstars of all three WWE rosters pilled into the newly assigned meeting room - basically, one of McMahon's former employee's offices who had two words still ringing in his ears - many questioned just why another meeting was to occur.

"Doesn't Vince have other things to do besides boss us about?" Queen Sharmell asked her husband.

King Booker smiled lightly. "Yes, thankfully he does - sending them morons Khali and Daivari to jail!"

"Thank God for that." Sharmell sighed. "Hopefully, it will be the last time we have to lay _our_ royal eyes over them peasants, right baby?"

"I hope so." the ruler of the Smackdown Kingdom nodded.

Fearing that he would be late, Paul London dashed into the room, hoping to find a little more than the Chairman waffling on at the front of the room.

Sat by herself, perched on the edge of an old desk, Ashley waved for one half of the WWE Tag Team Champions to join her. "So, did you find him?"

Making room for himself, Paul shook his head. "Nope. I dunno where he could have got to. It's so unlike him."

Hearing the worried musings of her close friend, the Playboy cover girl rested her head lovingly on his shoulder. "Everything will work out in the end - you'll see."

Just then, the man Paul was looking for came charging into the room. Offering a black stare, Kendrick took a seat at the other side of the room as McMahon, Coachman and Foley wandered in, each with an overly smug expression plastered across their faces.

"I wonder what they are so happy about?" the Heartbreak Kid whispered to his best buddy.

"Maybe they've just been told they won't have to eat that meatloaf for dinner!" the King of Kings joked as Jonathan demanded silence across the room.

"Everybody, please rise for your favourite boss - and mine - Mr. McMahon!" the Coach cheered, disgruntled at the fact that no one - except for Mick - complied to his orders.

The rest of the room blinked at the three men before them; were they serious? Could they act more pompous? Who in their right mind would follow orders from a jackass like Coach?

Not one to take no for an answer - unless it was from his beloved boss - Coachman raised his voice higher, gritting his teeth. "Everybody, please rise for MR. MCMAHON!"

Arms unfolding and chairs scraping against the wooden flooring, mumbles and cursing could be heard coming from every man and woman in the room, besides the three men at the front; many weren't even aware that Mick Foley was in the building, let alone with the Chairman.

Blindly and deafly ignore the language before them, Vince smirked arrogantly, his hands clenched together in front of him. He knew what many didn't expect what was coming, his evil and twisted persona about to enjoy every minute of it.

"Thank you." the eldest McMahon nonchalantly spoke, everyone taking this as a sign to retake their seats. "Now, as many of you have hopefully noticed, myself and Coachman have a new friend."

"The first new friend of McMahon's in over five years!" John Cena tittered, much to the delight of the Hardy Boyz.

"That's right - Mick Foley has join our team of enthusiastic workers, isn't that right Mick?"

The room chuckled amongst themselves; no one was enthusiastic, especially not the three men proclaiming to be.

Vince regained control of the meeting room. "Now, allow me to step down and let the one and only, great Mr. Foley take over on the mic here."

The rolling of eyes and shaking of heads could almost be heard; it was so obvious that no one gave half a damn about any of this. Many people present even resented the fact that one of their final hours off before travelling on the road was being ruined by the crappy meeting.

"Thank you, Mr. McMahon for that wonderful introduction." the Hardcore Legend smarmily replied, many in the room gagging at the nauseous scene. "Now, many of you will probably be wondering just why I am here, speaking to all of you today and why - just why - one of your most precious hours do I demand your undivided attention?"

"Hey, he's got that right." The Legend Killer whispered to the Rated R Superstar who nodded in agreement.

"You see, when I first heard about Mr. McMahon here moving everyone into Stamford, I thought to myself, quite honestly, that's the best joke I've ever heard!"

The WWE Champion rolled his eyes. "Yeah it would be a pretty good joke if you account for Master's!"

"But then, as more and more was revealed in the tabloids, I realised something."

"What, that he's over weight, rubbish, can't wrestle and is only good at writing children's books?" Edge mocked quietly, much to the delight of everyone near him.

"That the company was in dire need of help." the Hardcore Legend revealed, everyone in the room already realising this. "And then, an idea came to me."

"We can top you and Hogan and steal your wills?" Batista spoke up in an unusually bitchy tone.

"Nope. To save money, Mr. Foley has come up with a fantastic solution to all of our problems." the Chairman stood, defending his protégé. "Take it away." he said, returning to his seat once the room was near enough silent.

"All of you out there are going to get jobs around the building. Each week there will be a roster, all of you taking it in turn to complete chores before moving on to a different area through out the course of the month. Then, you shall go back to the beginning, and this shall carry on." Mick confessed, everyone in the room grimacing.

"No way!" Cena was the first to vent his spleen. "That's not fair!"

"What makes you say that?" the Coach asked, in his usual cocky manner.

Triple H stood up on behalf of the locker room, ready for fight for what they all - for a change - believed in. "You expect us to go on the road four nights a week, busting our asses for you before coming back and doing chores? Bullshit!"

"C'mon, Trips, don't be so...so negative." Foley continued. " It's a unique experience - we must take advantage of it."

"If you are so bothered about this 'unique experience', why don't _you_ do it all seven days of the week?" the third generation superstar stood up, for once uniting with two men that he despised.

Everybody cheered on the three men's thoughts, there own angst being displayed through them.

"Because, Master Orton, I'm the man who will orchestrate it all, keeping you all in check." Mick replied, a twisted smirk applied.

By this time, the Billion Dollar Princess had gotten up from her seat next to her husband, upon Shawn's wishes, in hope of her stopping this before it even began. "Daddy, please don't do this!"

"I'm sorry. It needs to be done." Vince simply shrugged, only winding his daughter and workers up in the process.

Stephanie began to plead, her eyes telling the story. "Dad, look, can't you see is that all you are doing is driving everyone away? You have to understand that we can't go on like this!"

The McMahon didn't even respond; his face stern, he gazed in front of him, instead of to his left side where his daughter was standing.

Knowing that at least for the time being she was defeated, Stephanie returned solemnly to her seat, into the comforting arms of her husband. "Don't worry, darling." the Game reassured. "We'll get something done about this - I promise."

Whilst the hustle and bustle was still going on, Coachman and Foley handed out the rotor sheets, much to the disliking of everyone. Many didn't even want to consider the _idea_ of doing jobs on their days off, let alone having to do any.

In the meantime, the Icon had taken it upon himself to pass a note around. Using a spare piece of paper from his wife's handbag, the D Generation X duo realised that getting worked up and in a state would not solve the problem but make it millions of times worse.

In his best handwriting, Shawn wrote the following words: _'PASS THIS NOTE AROUND DISCRETELY! First of all, this has pis- I mean, peed up off more than ever. Stick together, and keep quite for the time being. We WILL sort this out, we promise.' _Complete with the pairs signatures.

As it got passed around the room, everyone nodded to each other; there really was an unspoken bond between them, even if it was to defeat the dastardly trio.

Finally receiving their jobs list, Shawn and Hunter's mouths dropped wide open. "Catching flies there, are we?" the Hardcore Legend mimicked, returning to the front.

"Now, all of the decisions on this piece of paper are final." Foley spoke up. "Only in very extreme circumstances will we alter them."

"What, like if we don't wanna do them?" the Whole F'N Show snarled, Mick shooting daggers at the 2006 Money In The Bank winner.

Thinking of something crucial, Sara, the Undertaker's wife, stood to her feet. "Ummm, this is all very well and good, but what happens to our children whilst we are doing all of these chores?"

With the nod of several other Mum's in the room, Foley answered the question. "If you pay a little closer attention to the sheet, Mrs Calaway, you will notice that there are jobs for people running the nursery to put all of your little 'angels' in."

"There is no way I'm leaving my children with Test and Kane!" Rebecca shrieked, Shawn doing his best to calm her down.

"I'm sorry but rules are rules." Mr. Foley concluded. "Now, you are all dismissed until Dinner time to go and do whatever you want. Of course, following the guidelines."

But would the last set of revelations be enough to tip the group over the edge? Check back for more, soon!


	16. Chapter 16: Maria's worst nightmare?

Solitarily wondering through the deserted hall ways of Stamford, Maria flicked her hair uneasily behind her shoulders. She had a very funny, peculiar feeling in the bottom of her tummy as she stumbled to Mr. McMahon's solid oak, office door.

The Diva had not gone on the road with Raw this week as she'd broken her hand. The Doctor told her to take it easy, rest up and not to do anything too strenuous. So, she'd been given orders to stay in the office block - all by herself - whilst the Raw house shows were on. Then, she might be flying to New York for the Live Raw show, to do any backstage interviews.

Knocking on the intimidating door with her good hand, Maria took a step back as the door creaked uneasily open. She took this as a sign to go in, to face her fears and find out exactly what Vince wanted to see her about.

She took tiny steps in, her voice smaller than a lady bugs. "M-Mr McMahon, you wanted to see me?"

Spinning his leather chair around to face her, Vince smiled to her. "Yes, I did indeed. C'mon, sit down." he invited, the young woman doing as he asked. "Now, Maria, how is your hand?"

"It's good thanks, yeah, still hurts a little from time to time but it should be ok!" she grinned cheesily to her Boss, as she often did.

"That's good." the Chairman nodded, getting up from his seat. "I need you to do a few things for the building while everyone is away."

The ditsy diva grimaced; even _she _knew that was coming! "But, Sir, the Doctor told me to rest, not work."

"Please, it won't be too bad. I promise. Just a bit of sweeping." Vince almost pleaded, looking at the girl with bold eyes.

Maria sighed; she didn't want to do the task nor did she want to get fired. "Ok, I'll do it." she uneasily rose from her seat, Vince thrusting a broom into her good hand. "So, where do you want me to start?"

"I'll show you." the Chairman spoke, leading her down the metal steps into a cold, dimly lit environment.

The Raw roster member gulped; this option didn't look too appealing.

- - - - - - - - - -

Meanwhile, two other WWE members who also weren't on the road this week end were sat in their cell, staring into space with nothing at all else to do.

Daivari was quite frankly sick and tired of the other man and his bizarre antics by now. For the past few nights he'd barely gotten any sleep of the 'Great' ones terrible snoring...and farting!

Sure, whilst on the road before sharing room's he'd been able to cope - he knew that the next three or four days afterwards he would have time to recover.

Now, not only was he physically in a prison but also mentally. He was beginning to lose what was left of his sanity - hastily!

Sighing heavily for what seemed like the millionth time in an hour, the Cruiserweight spoke up. "Khali, can you turn around whilst I, ya know..."

"MWAHABEMKEGAHLE!"

"I don't care if you object, when you've gotta go, you've gotta go!" Daivari declared, Khali following orders as the much smaller man unzipped his trousers.

Whistling as he peed, an oblivious Maria wondered into the room, complete with the broom Mr. McMahon had just given her. Upon seeing the semi naked man, she blushed, covering her eyes with her cast covered hand.

"Oooppps, sorry!" she giggled, only shutting the cage door slightly behind her.

Spinning round, Daivari revealed himself a little too much. "ARGH! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?"

Cowering, clutching the broom as some form of comfort, the Diva replied. "Mr. McMahon told me to come and clean up a little in here. It's his orders. I promise not to be too long." she spoke, turning her back on the two men as she started work on the other side of the room.

It was as if a light bulb went off over Daivari's head. Zipping up his trousers, he stumbled over to Khali, whispering in his ear.

"MWHSBAOABD!"

"You distract her." the Smackdown roster member making his way closer to open cell door.

Slowly tottering over to the pretty young woman, the 'Great' Khali began flinging his arms around in a deranged fashion. Maria looked up, seeming as if she understood.

"Yeah, this place does suck, I can understand why you wanna get out of here." she nodded sympathetically, feeling terrible for the man next to her.

"MAHAFPFNSABA!"

Maria gasped. "What, they haven't brought you any food in days? That's terrible! Even I remember to feed my pet rabbit more than that...I think!"

"MAEHOENSSDAD!"

"Oh yeah, he he, of course I don't have a rabbit, he he, or they would be here with me!" the ditsy diva giggled, flicking her hair over her shoulders. "But still, that's not right about them not giving you any food. In fact, I'm gonna go and get you some right now - screw McMahon!"

As the naive girl left the room - of course leaving the cell door wide open - Daivari's wide smiled became broader. "C'mon, here's our chance!" he yelled as softly and euphorically as possible, the two men retreating from the cell without a thought for the poor, slightly dim Maria.

A few moments later, Maria had dragged Coachman down to deal with the matter. According to Vince, he had no time to deal with rubbish such as this, sending his intern down to do the dirty work for him.

"Now, Maria, I know this may be hard for _you_ to comprehend but I have much more important things to do with my time than to give these two trouble makers food." Jonathan stated, Maria rolling her eyes.

"That's no excuse to leave people to starve is it?" she wagged her finger at a less than amused Coach.

Practically dragging him down the stairs and leading him to the cell, Maria spoke her mind again. "You leave them down here, all on their own in this dark, horrible, cold place with no food or blankets?" I'm in two minds whe-"

Suddenly, her mouth dropped open, her words stuck wisely in the back of her throat; "Wh- where are they?" she gasped, her eyes wider than saucers; this _had_ to be some kind of sick joke.

"Yes, indeed, where are they?" Jonathan agreed, his eyes equally as wide yet with a glint of delight present; the thought of Maria getting in major trouble over this whole incident made him glad to be him. He had trouble hiding his toothy grin.

"Th-they were here when I left!" she stammered, her voice shaky.

Jonathan shook his head in disgust. "Maria, did you remember to close and lock the cell door after you?"

"Yeah, I'm sure I did...no, I didn't." she whispered, her eyes filling with tears; she could just hear the two dreaded words right now...

_"YOU'RE FIRED!"_

As he turned to walk away, Maria grasped onto Coachman's arm. "Please, give me ten minutes to try and find them."

Jonathan removed his sunglasses, arrogance personified. "Tell me, sweet Maria, why in the hell should I let _you _have ten minutes in order to try and find them two idiots?"

Maria searched her mind anxiously. There was only one thing to do in a time like this. "Coz," she licked her lips, pulling Jonathan's jacket loser off his body. "Because, I can show you a side if me that's not so sweet." she raised an eyebrow seductively, taking note of the miniscule droplet of sweat that trickled from the Intern Raw General Manager's head.

"Are you trying to bribe me?" he quizzed, forcing the lady's hands away from his body.

Shrugging innocently, she searched the ground before her. "Well, kinda."

Jonathan gasped dramatically. "How dare you!" he turned to walk away, disgusted with his employee.

"Please, just give me ten minutes and I promise I'll try and find them." she begged, her eyes watery like a weary, new born puppy dogs.

Questioning his conscience, the Coach decided to be warm hearted for at least ten minutes of his life. "All right but it must only be ten minutes. Or else..."

Scooting away from the tall man, would Maria be able to find Daivari and the 'Great' Khali?

One things for sure; the Raw General Manager certainly hoped that she wouldn't. The thought of his boss firing another employee made his heart glow with pride.

"This could be a very, _very_ good day!" Coachman chuckled evilly, rubbing his hands in glee.

But would he get his wish?

Check back for more, soon!

- - - - - - - - - - -

Hey, thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter - over a hundred reviews baby! Lol! Anyway, I know this chapter's a bit short but I promise the next one is longer with two of everyone's favourite characters on their own. That's all I'm saying for now so stay tuned to find out!


	17. Chapter 17: Reflecting and Plan Making!

Sighing heavily, Shawn Michaels lazily undressed himself, his tired fingers fumbling hopelessly over the knot in his tie. Pulling his hair out of the tight fitting band, he perched himself on the edge of his bed, strain obviously beginning to take it's toll. He was fatigued, bored and aching, his now unusually pessimistic nature starting to get the better of his mind as he began to unbutton the clingy white dress shirt, flinging it onto the floor as if he could care less. And indeed, that was the case.

Exhaling deeply once again, the troubled D Generation X founder was emotionally drained. So much so he'd already started taking it out on the ones he cared about most - particularly his wife. He detested their arguments - as rare as they were - especially when he was about something that wasn't even involving sweet Rebecca; the state of Stamford, Connecticut.

Due to the state of the premises - and that disaster of a meeting - the wives and girlfriends of the WWE superstars decided to join them on the road this week; spending time in the presence of McMahon, Coachman and Foley would be too unbearable for words. Plus, it would get them out of the diabolical chores as well as the group beginning to formulate a plan against the mean trio.

Beyond frustrated with the whole situation, the Heartbreak Kid vented his spleen to one of the only people he knew would truly listen. Alas, taking offence to it, Becky decided that Shawn needed a little 'cooling off time'. So, she took their kids and went for a walk, not stating when she would be back.

The Icon's next plan of action had not been determined. His heart was telling him to go and find his wife and tell her he was sorry, and of course that he loved her before they retired back to their room for a nice, quiet evening. Yet, on the other hand, his mind and eyes were telling him to go to bed; both of them were out of order and said stuff that neither of them meant to. It would be best just to let the situation calm down a little first.

Agreeing with his last thoughts, the Showstoppa' decided to go to bed after getting changed. After having a shower, cleaning his teeth, brushing his hair and praying, he climbed into the vast double bed, his mind still wondering as his blue eyes dropped into a state of sleep.

Abruptly, there was a knock on the door. The Heartbreak Kid's initial thoughts were to ignore it; whomever it was would go away, given a little time and ignorance. Yet, after a couple of minutes of complete and utter silence, the person began to knock again, this time a little louder.

Growling, Shawn removed the covers from his painful body; the match him and his partner had against Rated RKO that night had been brutal, especially because it was a Street Fight. His more alert corner of his mind considered that the knock at the door maybe Rebecca. Perhaps she'd forgotten her keys and couldn't get back into the room?

Pulling on a pair of boxers, Shawn ambled to the door. Squinting through the peep hole, it certainly didn't appear to be a woman with two small children in her grasp.

Turning around to get a better look at the man behind the door, he was the first on to speak. "Hey Shawn."

"Hunter? What are you doing here?" HBK quizzed, opening the door a little wider for his best buddy to enter.

"Well, uh, it's a long story." the Game tittered uneasily, accepting the invitation. "Are you alone?"

"Yeah. Me and Becky, ya know, had a little disagreement."

"Over the way my Father-In-Law is treating us?"

"Yeah. Exactly." Shawn frowned, locking the door behind him for security purposes.

Removing his leather jacket, the Kings of Kings had the same confession to make. "Me and Steph, we had a heated discussion about that too."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Her and Aurora left the building for a walk." Triple H informed. "She didn't say when she was coming back. Did Becky?"

"No." the Icon replied. "She just left in a huff."

"Women!" the duo rolled there eyes simultaneously, making both of them chuckle a little.

"I'll never understand women, even if I live to be over a hundred!" Hunter shook his head, taking a seat at the desk in his buddy's room. The Showstoppa' began to laugh out loud. "Hey, what's so funny?"

"Technically, before you and Stephanie fell in love, you weren't with a woman anyway." Shawn wise cracked with the cruellest - yet nicest - intentions at heart.

"Bitch." the Cerebral Assassin stuck his tongue out, knowing that Shawn meant no harm.

Gazing blankly around the room, all Shawn really wanted to do was nap. Yet his mind was too busy racing. And he had a wide awake best friend in his company. "So, what else is on your mind?" the Icon asked, not wanting to seem impolite.

"You know, the usual." Triple H shrugged. "How we're gonna get them bastards Vince, Coach and Mick back?"

Michaels shook his head, exhaling loudly once again, collapsing on his bed. "Your guess is as good as mine. There is no way everyone can concentrate on their work properly when they have this burden on them."

Noting the tension etched on Shawn's face, Hunter went and placed a comforting arm around his shoulder. "You know, there's no way we can come up with a solution when we are so...angry. We need to relax, calm down, think about things logically..."

"Hunter." Shawn urged the man to stop, mid sentence. "You're beginning to sound more and more like my wife everyday."

The Game giggled. "Hey, that's not a bad thing." he exclaimed. "Your wife's hot!"

The Heartbreak Kid gave the King of Kings a disturbed look. Noticing his partner in crime's uncomfortableness, Hunter quickly apologised before they both refocused their minds.

"I wonder when Becky will be back?" Shawn questioned himself in a mutter.

"Hey, who cares?"

"I do, I like my wife." the Showstoppa' spoke, the object of his affections still engraved in his mind.

"No, no, I didn't mean it like that." Hunter shook his head. "How about we forget about them for the time being and have a good time. Besides, we need to come up with a plan to defeat the three stooges back in Stamford."

Shawn sounded less than enthusiastic. "I guess you're right."

"Yeah, I'm always right!" the Game cheered, his best buddy rolling his eyes playfully in his direction. "Tell ya what, how about we order some room service, ya know, to help our minds?"

"And stomachs." the Icon added, grabbing the menu from the bedside table.

Snatching the menu from the older mans hands, Hunter had his mind set on several items. "Oh, how about we order the five cheese pizza - with extra toppings, ice cream with them little, itsy bitsy fudge pieces, chocolate chip cookies and potato chips?"

"So much for calorie counting!" HBK mumbled, taking the menu back. "Hey!"

"What?" the King of King's quizzed upon the cries from the man beside him.

"You're gonna run my credit card bill sky high! Then your Daddy-In-Law might get mad."

"Just charge it to the company." Hunter decided, for the first time sharing the menu rather than squabbling over it. "What kind of pizza do you want?"

Laying his restless body down, his hands covering his exhausted face, Shawn jerked his shoulders in an indefinite fashion. "I don't mind - you pick."

Upon the last piece of advice, Triple H sat up nearer to the top of the bed, grabbing the phone receiver in his hand before being redirected to the kitchen staff. "Hey, yeah, this is room 457, just wanted to make an order. Yeah, can we have a couple of bottles of mineral water...Gotta be ice cold or we won't drink them."

Shawn gestured for his mates attention. "I want Diet coke."

"Ok, yeah, cancel one of the mineral waters for a Diet coke..." Placing his hand over the receiver, Hunter asked Shawn an important question. "Do you want it from the fridge or near the back door or the oven?"

Shawn's eyes were as confused as Hunter's expression. "From the fridge."

"Ok and one large Pepperoni pizza."

Shawn gasped. "Pepperoni? I can't stand the stuff!"

"You said you didn't care what you had on it!" Triple H retaliated.

"You know I hate pepperoni!"

"Fine!" Hunter sighed. "Yeah, make that a chicken and mushroom pizza...with extra cheese...and chopped tomatoes."

"Is that all, sir?" the man on the other end of the phone quizzed.

"Oh yeah, can we have some cookies?...Fudge and chocolate? Yeah, awesome! Who should the bill be made payable to?" the Cerebral Assassin's face lit up. "Mr. V. K. McMahon. I'll bring you his details when we check out tomorrow. Thank you, bye."

Sitting up, Shawn folded his arms across his firm chest. "Paul."

"Hey, no sweat, Steph has a company card in her handbag, by tomorrow we will have kissed and made up so I'll steal it off her."

"I'm sure Eddie Guerrero will be most proud when he hears that all the way in heaven." Shawn added, lying back down again.

Rolling over, Hunter turned to face him, a hint of regret present in his voice. "Yeah, I'm sure he will be."

A few moments of reflection passed. The Heartbreak Kid was the first man to speak. "So, did it say how long the food would be?"

"No, he didn't. Probably not too long. I guess more people in the hotel would have more sense that to stay in for food."

The Game was right; the hotel was filthy. There was dust everywhere, as well as cobwebs, indicating that the place hadn't been cleaned in months, if not years. The beds were squeaky, mattresses thin, not great for a muscular WWE superstar's body.

"This place makes Stamford look like a Palace...almost." the Icon chuckled, trying once again to look on the bright side of things.

As they waited for the pizza, cookies and (hopefully) cold drinks, the D Generation X duo scanned their brains for any hope of freedom from the dreaded Titan Towers.

But would they be able to come up with anything? Would everyone agree with their plan? Check back for more, soon!


	18. Chapter 18: This means WAR!

Arriving back at the not so pleasant surroundings of Titan Towers with some of his room buddies, CM Punk sighed heavily to himself; he was actually relived yet concerned to be back in Stamford. Although in some ways thankful that he would allow his body a minimalist amount of time to heal from some of the extreme stunts he'd participated in over the weekends house shows, he did not want to have to do any dumb chores that McMahon had set for him to do.

Something else was playing on his mind in a huge way; his girlfriend Maria, who had been forced to stay behind over the week end due to a broken hand, had not been in contact with him for over twenty four hours. This was most unlike her and immediately set alarm bells ringing in his over active mind. Despite reassurances from others that she would be fine, he had a nasty gut instinct about this one and wanted to get to the very bottom of it as soon as possible.

Pulling up into a car parking space, the Extremists pulled their luggage awkwardly from the boot of their cramped car; it had been a long day, an even longer one since they drove all night to get home. Mr. McMahon and Co decided to cancel everyone's plane tickets and to make them all pay for a Rent-A-Car instead. All they wanted to do now was go to bed and rest their aching limbs.

Alas, they knew that wouldn't be allowed to happen. Not in a million years.

Locking up their ride, none of them had the energy to really lift their bags let alone take them inside and unpack them. They were all beyond exhausted.

However, something in the not so distant distance was about to catch all of their eyes.

Squinting near the doorway, Sabu's vision became clearer yet his brain still confused. "Say, what's that near the door?"

All of his mates looked up, staring at the misshapen figure before them. It appeared to be a person, sat with a duvet cover wrapped tightly around their frame. One member of the group recognised them instantly.

"MARIA!" CM Punk cried, dropping his luggage and sprinting over to his girlfriend, the same girl who appeared to be having trouble to comprehend his words.

"Wh-you're back?" she stammered, the duvet cover still around her frozen body.

Punk crouched down before her. "Just now. How long have you been out here?" he questioned in the most concerned of fashions.

The pretty Diva paused for a few moments, unsure as to tell her partner the truth or not. She knew what she had to do. "All night."

The look on CM Punks face said it all; a mixture of worry, angst and most of all love to the other person. "What? Why?"

"Vi- I mean Mr. McMahon said that whilst I was doing nothing, it would be a good idea for me to do some chores."

"What kind of chores?" the Extremists pestered for an answer, moving closer to the young woman.

"L-like cleaning the jail that Khali and Daivari were in."

A puzzled look crept across the tattooed guys face. "_Were_ in?"

"Well, you see, I accidentally didn't close the door right. They escaped. I couldn't find them. Vince sent me out here, saying how he didn't want me anywhere near him."

"Please don't tell me he fired you?" Punk shook his head in dismay.

"No. He just locked me out." Maria gulped, wrapping the duvet cover tighter once again. It really was a cold day.

"BASTARD!" Punk cried, standing to his feet, lashing out at the brick wall him and his girl were now perched against. "THAT FUCKING ARSEHOLE'S GONNA GET A PIECE OF MY MIND!"

With the last ounce of energy that she had, Maria got uneasily to her feet, her body shaking both of fear and the weather conditions around her. "No, baby, please don't do that, he'll fire us both!"

Punk stood still for a moment. Pushing the strands of greasy black hair from his eyes, his anger calmed a little, a more rational state of mind setting in. "Do you realise that if we keep trying not to offend McMahon, one day, it's gonna bite us in the ass. We can't be afraid on him. We have to tell him the truth. Even if that does mean getting fired, we have to fight for what we believe in." he spoke, inviting his lady in for a hug.

- - - - - - - - - -

Elsewhere, Daivari and the 'Great' Khali had been walking for what seemed like hours...mainly coz it was hours since they escaped from the prison of the Titan Towers, trying their best not to get caught by the authorities under rule by Vince McMahon.

By now, neither man were speaking to each other. This time it wasn't a case of because they didn't want to. It was the fact that they were both dehydrated and in desperate need of food as well as shelter; they'd been caught in the rain all evening and the only clothes they had with them were the ones they were stood in.

"Kh-Khali, we need to stop." the Cruiserweight spoke; Khali's long legs could go a longer distance than his.

Realising that their situation was hopeless, the 'Great' one began to speak his mind. "AWBNAPNABJHOMRSGSIONA!"

"Wh-what do you mean we should give ourselves up? We were waiting for an opportunity to escape - if my mind doesn't deceive me - and when we do you aren't satisfied!"

"HAGNOSDYPANAGU!"

"What do you mean it was unfair to take advantage of Maria? It's not our fault she's stupid!" Daivari defended their actions to the up most.

"YAHANOPAGACMCUWEYJDN!"

"You're hungry? I gave you the last bit of my sandwich like three days ago, you can't be!" Daivari gasped. "Besides, we need to find something nutritional to eat...oh look, a McDonalds!"

Neither man needed too much persuading before heading for the fast food diner. Yet, the thought never crossed their minds that prying eyes might be watching their every move...

- - - - - - - - - - -

Managing to get his girlfriend inside the now buzzing office building in Stamford, Punk managed to find her some warmer clothing. "We're gonna tackle this situation head on, ok?"

Not feeling like arguing with the one person in the building she actually cared about, Maria nodded, the couple heading for the dreaded McMahon office.

Knocking on the door, the Diva felt her stomach sink; she really didn't want to get fired, no matter what her partner said. CM Punk felt the exact opposite way; he was ready to fight McMahon with everything he'd got and - in a twisted sense - was glad this had happened to his girl. It gave him an excuse to fight.

Upon being invited in, Vince's smug expression fell once seeing an outraged Punk and Diva stood before him. "What the hell is _she_ doing in here?"

"Maria is my guest, actually." the ECW roster member spoke. "Tell me what the hell you were thinking forcing her outside for the night?"

"_She_ forced it upon herself. _She_ shouldn't have been so foolish as to leave a cell door open for our prisoners to escape, should she?"

CM Punk grunted. "When will you realise that this isn't a prison - this is meant to be our home for the time being whilst you get your financial problems sorted out."

"ANSWER MY QUESTION!" Vince cried, Coachman handing him a large bottle of Kalms which were soon enough tossed out of the window. "WHY WAS YOUR GIRLFRIEND STUPID ENOUGH TO LEAVE THE CELL DOOR WIDE OPEN?"

Maria had heard enough, tears welling in her eyes. "Why are you talking as if I'm not even here?" and with that she shot out of the door, offended and angry all at the same time.

Growling, the Extremist marched over to his employer. Nose to nose they stood; two tribes at war. "You listen and listen good." he began, his voice almost a whisper. "If you ever, _ever_ do that again, I will be forced to beat your ass within an inch of your life!"

The Chairman chuckled, standing back from the young man. "Oh yeah, you and who else?"

Now it was Punk's turn to laugh. "Let me assure you that it isn't just me that would be happy to beat the living daylights out of you."

"Look here..." Vince replied, CM Punk already walking away from him. "HEY, DON'T YOU DARE IGNORE ME YOU SECOND RATE WANKER!"

Inviting his weeping girlfriend in for a hug, Mr. Straightedge had finally had enough. At that moment in time, the pathetic reality of the situation sunk in. Sure, people expected this to be bad but not the this extent. Not to the extent that people would be thrown in jail. Not to the extent that people were given chores to do on their days off. Not to the extent that the Boss would get so pissed off he would throw a fragile, youthful girl out into the cold for the night.

Something had to be done. And fast.

Breaking the silence, CM Punk spoke. "You know, darling, there are two people that I know will help us."

"W-who?" Maria whispered.

"Two guys I know will help us beat that asshole." Punk added. "This means "War!"

But who could he be referring too?

Check back for more, soon!

- - - - - - - - - -

Hey guys! Thanks to all of you who reviewed the last chapter - hope you all like this one!


	19. Chapter 19: Two Dudes With Attitude!

As the door swung open for what seemed like the hundredth time that minute, everyone glanced over their shoulders, not that they could view the figures entering the room; a mixture of the hoard of others and dimmed lighting clouding their vision.

Hunter sighed, rubbing a hand over every crease on his tired face. "Ok, keep it down people, we just need to wait a few more moments and..."

Before too much more could be said, Ashley wondered into the room, those that could see her making room for the Diva to get to the two men at the front.

"Mission achieved?" Shawn quizzed, a nod insinuating that the task was indeed completed.

"Great!" Triple H enthused, waiting for the lady to take a seat before revealing what was to occur next. "Now, the meeting shall begin."

"Hunter?" a voice squeaked from the back.

The D Generation X buddies squinted. "Who said that?" the Heartbreak Kid asked.

"Me!" the voice became agitated, as if it's owner should not be kept waiting under any circumstances. "Randy Orton."

"What is it?" the King of Kings groaned, wanting nothing more than to begin.

The room was insufficient of air and patience; nobody wanted to be there for very long. Yet, it was a necessary evil that the 'discussion' took place. Urgently.

Shoving a torch into the youngest Orton's hands so that the men at the front could just about see him, the young man began to speak. "So, uh, where's Vince? I mean, isn't he gonna find out about this?"

"Not unless somebody tells him." Melina sniped, flicking her hair over her tanned shoulders. She was already pissed off, having to sit in a crowded room with this shower of filthy people.

"Relax, we've already got him and Coach out of the building." Stephanie McMahon informed.

"How?" Kelly Kelly questioned, snuggling up to her boyfriend.

_Sitting in his office, Vince McMahon contemplated the options before him; the future was still looking bleak for the company. Not as much as it had been but still bleak. Slurping the hot liquid, he was considering whether or not just to disappear to bed, like his mind was urging him to. Yet, he had so much damn work to do. Too much to just leave._

_Bursting through the door, Vince's right hand man looked puzzled at his mentors expression; it was a mixture of fatigue and 'please go away before I beat the living shit out of you'. Alas, what Coachman had on his mind was very important, too important to just forget about._

_"What is it?" the Chairman questioned flatly, resting his head in his hands; whatever Coach had to say, couldn't it wait until morning?_

_"Sir, you won't believe who I was just on the phone to!"_

_Not bothering to lift his head up, Vince mumbled a reply. "Surprise me."_

_"Donald Trump! THE Donald Trump, sir!"_

_"Trump, ha, I've known that bastard for years, what the hell could he possibly want?"_

_Jonathan smirked, his eyes filled with excitement like a young child's on Christmas morning. "He wants us to fly over to Trump Towers. He said he had a brilliant business proposal for us!"_

_McMahon's head shot up. His mind was barely functioning yet he believed he'd just heard those words correctly. Coachman continued._

_"He says it could help us pay off **all **of our debts, today!"_

_Peering at his Rolex, Vince became a little cynical. "What, at ten thirty at night?"_

_"Well, tomorrow then. All he said was that he wanted us to fly down their ASAP and get into talks with him. What d'ya say?"_

_Peering around at all of the unanswered letters, time tables and scripts, the eldest McMahon sighed heavily; really, what choice did he have?_

_"Alright, let me just get a few things and we'll be going." he decided, now walking with a purpose._

"When Linda heard about all of this, she dragged Shane and his family along with them. Piece of cake!" Hunter smiled, glad that his plan was starting to fall into place.

"I'm confused." Maria once again spoke, a frown appearing on her face. "Did Donald really call Vince or was that someone playing a prank?"

Some people in the room groaned. However, the Icon was prepared to be as patient as possible. "We got someone very good at impressions to do all of the pranking. That's all I'm gonna say on that matter for the time being." he winked, Triple H wanting to get right back to business.

"Now that we've told you that, let's get back to busine-"

"Hold on a second!" called a Canadian accent. "Have you 'two dudes with attitude' forgotten about a certain Mick Foley who's bound to be bumbling around the place somewhere?"

"Well, Edge, that's why Ashley just re-entered the room. She went to deal with Mr. Foley and we shouldn't be hearing another peep from him for the rest of the evening." the Showstoppa' informed.

"Has anyone got anything that they wish to discuss before we start thinking of a concrete plan?" Stephanie McMahon questioned, her voice alert and professional.

Everyone glanced at one another; where were many to begin?

"I have." a firm voice spoke up, a torch being passed to the blonde man.

"Go ahead, Brian." Triple H urged.

Looking shiftily around, the Cruiserweight began his piece. "Yeah, can I switch rooms?"

Many whispered to the person sat next to them; why would he want to do that?

"Why?" was the Billion Dollar Princess' reply.

"Coz...I don't feel I can stay in the room I am currently in, that's all." Kendrick said. "I don't get along with the people."

"That's not true!" a male exclaimed, in no view of light. "That's not true at all."

On the order of passing the other man a torch, Brian rolled his eyes. "The only reason we aren't getting along is coz you've got a huge chip on your shoulder, ever since I came back from my prison stay." Paul spoke up, everyone raising their eyebrows. Many were aware that the WWE Tag Team Champions weren't getting along but had no idea why...come to think of it, neither did London.

Demanding the torch back, Kendrick spat a reply. "Coz, 'Paul', you my man are a complete and utter asshole!"

Waiting for the torch to return, there wasn't a single person in the room that wasn't shocked by the young man's response. Even Kendrick wasn't certain at his angst. "Oh yeah, why's that?"

Throwing the torch back at his tag team partner, London growled, the rest of the room joined in with a chorus of 'Oh's'.

"So your stupid as well as an asshole now, huh? You know for well why I hate you!"

"No, I don't." Paul replied, not even waiting to be seen with the torch's light. "But I'd love to hear it."

Both men stood, clambering over other members of the locker room to stand face to face in the centre. Sensing that this would be one of the worst possible times to start a slanging match, Undertaker wisely stepped in between the two Cruiserweights, D Generation X grateful for the Deadman's actions.

"That's enough, everyone." Hunter decided, trying to bring sanity back to the proceedings. "Can't you see that all you're doing is causing more problems for everyone?"

"Now, I understand you two haven't been getting along great over the past few days but we do need to stick together on this one. With a bit of luck and a lot of praying, we should get out of this situation soon enough IF we can't keep it together." Shawn wisely stated, everyone present nodding at the Heartbreak Kid.

"So, what was the reason behind this meeting?" Johnny Nitro spoke, desperately wanting to keep things in the line of business.

"Unfortunately, CM Punk and Maria came to us earlier in the day and told us about something that was beyond appalling that occurred whilst we were on the road. We aren't going to go into details but it made us realise that we really do need to get this whole petty scenario dealt with as soon as possible." the King of King's told.

With a mixture of curiosity and determination, the locker rooms nodded to one another; something did need to be done, and fast before someone got seriously hurt, either mentally or physically.

"So, what do you suggest we do?" John Cena piped up.

"What do you all want us to do?" Shawn asked, wanting to hear everyone else's opinions.

"I say we riot." Rob Van Dam chimed in, some of the older people shaking their heads.

"Nah, too risky at this stage." the Game disagreed.

"How about we get a load of apples and spit McMahon, Coach and Foley in the face?" Carlito smirked. "Dat...dat would be cool!"

"No, too ridiculous." Stephanie tried her best not to laugh at the strange suggestion.

"Ok, Einstein's, what do you think we should do?" the Rated R Superstar decided, many others agreeing with him.

Shawn and Hunter turned to glance at each other; they had the perfect plan already formulated.

Next time in 'Necessary Evil'...

Will D Generation X's plan work? Will some quit before beginning?

Check back for more, soon!


	20. Chapter 20: Sticking it out

Amongst the regular heavy traffic, horns raging, curses mimicked worldly, hip hop music blaring from stereo's, there was one man asleep. One man that was possibly making more noise that all of the traffic and inhabitants combined. One man snoring so loudly, people in England were experiencing headaches.

One man, Mick Foley, was more or less passed out in the exact same place he had been for forty-eight hours; Mr. McMahon's beloved office. A place usually home to a working, relaxed, and dare I say, calm atmosphere. It was certainly a place Vince felt comfortable in, one where he knew his creative, genius mind could work to the up most.

Up until recently. The scene of serenity was diminished, crumbling to the ground - a modern day Roman Empire. Now, the Titan Towers was filled with a pack of unruly degenerates. All because of this...this financial mess that no one seemed to have a clue how (or why) occurred.

However, the occupant of the room was doing less than nothing to help and rally to the cause. Slumped in Vince's finest, Italian leather recliner chair, his muddy, once white trainers sprawled on the prized mahogany desk. A place which was the home to multi-million dollar contract signings, some of the most valued in Sports Entertainment history; Hulk Hogan, The Rock, Stone Cold Steve Austin.

The memories all tarnished in one fair swoop.

Yet, the twenty plus stone baby, dead to the world, had no idea what his actions were wrecking. At least metaphorically. Burping and farting about made the setting even more unpleasant than before. But the Hardcore Legend was still fast asleep in the land of nod.

But for how much longer?

- - - - - - - - - - -

"So, when is Vince and his posse getting back?" The Rated R Superstar questioned, almost eagerly, as if he _anticipated_ the Bosses return.

The Heartbreak Kid sighed; a cook he wasn't. Him and Hunter being placed on Kitchen duties was one of the worst possible jobs in the world. His understanding of preparing food was limited to a simple chicken salad! Pointless interruptions certainly weren't helping. "In a couple of hours, I dunno." he finally lost his temper, slamming the thousand page Delia Smith book down onto the pristine, black worktop. His angry reflection struck back at him, as he lent against the surface with his hands. He knew his actions were unjustified.

"Sorry, I was only asking." Edge apologised in a very unconvincing tone of voice, throwing a freshly cleaned yet soap sud ridden pot in the direction of his pot cleaning buddy.

"No, I should be saying sorry." Shawn shook his head. Once again, his good Christian nature was being displayed, a complete opposite phrase of what his mind was telling him to say. Now, he listened to his heart and knew his angst was unjustified. "I'm sorry."

The two time WWE Champion never replied, merely continued with his designated duties. Wiping some of the suds from his apron, the Legend Killer crumbled his nose. "How long do we have to do this shit for?"

"As long as it takes for you to finish." his former mentor responded, his presence being felt as he re-entered the room, his posture as demanding for attention as ever.

"You took your time, didn't you?" The Icon asked, throwing his Chef's hat onto the worktop before him.

The Kings of Kings had left a little over half an hour ago to make sure that 'the troops were in their ranking order'. And that's very much how he viewed himself and his partner in crimes positions; bossy Army Officers, ready to keep everyone in line, no matter what. No matter how much Shawn disagreed, saying that everyone should stick with their plan but when necessary act on instincts, Triple H was of the conflicting frame of mind; everyone needed to know their place and stick firmly to it. Or else...

"I took as long as I need to." The Game informed, redressing himself in his apron.

"How is everyone?" The Showstoppa' pestered, deciding now was the right time to re-attempt the notion of cooking for what seemed like the feeding of the five thousand.

"Hungry and pissed off!" Hunter laughed slightly, inquisitive glances being forced in his direction.

"Why, what's happened now?" the third generation wrestler questioned, waltzing over to the cupboard near to the self appointed leader of the pack.

Turning around, snarling, Triple H's reply was blunt and to the point. "Nothing to do with you."

"Paul." Shawn cocked an eyebrow; when he just his best friend's Christian name, that was an indication that he needed him to re-address the situation.

Not really bothering to change his response, he turned to face the man sharing his cooking duties. "I dunno, everyone seemed so enthusiastic yesterday and when we spoke about it again last night but now everyone seems to be really pessimistic. They think that our plan isn't going to work."

Shawn exhaled, expecting that to be the reaction. "It does seem like a long shot but we have to be optimistic, stick this thing out for a little while longer. It's ok Rob saying we should riot but, realistically, what's that gonna achieve?"

"Probably a lot more that sitting around, playing by the rules all day." Hunter growled lightly, taking a seat on near by stool.

Signalling for Rated RKO to leave the DX duo alone for a while, Shawn joined Triple H, waiting for Randy to throw his dish cloth down and exit the kitchen. "I know this is possibly the last thing either of us would want to do, but didn't we agree it would be best to do this? To take McMahon, Coachman and Foley out of their comfort zones before beating them at their own game?"

Hunter paused for a moment, contemplating the older man's words. "We did agree to it, but it's just s-so..."

"Frustrating? Boring? Endless?"

In those three words, the Heartbreak Kid had summed up everything the King of King's was feeling and thinking. "We need to keep going with this. It will work. Trust me." Shawn urged, inviting his best buddy in for a hug.

- - - - - - - - - - -

"I can't believe Trump, I mean, he isn't usually that generous with cash!" the Chairman of the Board cried, waltzing back into his home, a new purpose behind his mad man power walk.

"Yeah, he's in-incredible." Coachman stammered, a puzzled expression cropping up on his face.

"Good afternoon Gentlemen and Ladies." the doorman smiled politely, acknowledging their presence's with a nod as he held the door gracefully open.

"Thank you." Linda beamed, shocked to see CM Punk turned out so smartly; his usually greasy, black hair was now freshly washed, smelling of tea tree oils and mint. His cologne was strong - not too strong - but strong enough to be smelt from a little distance away. He was smartly turned out in a navy blue suit, complete with a top hat and red lining on all of the details such as pockets and cuffs.

Vince didn't know quite how to respond; he was shocked, dazed that one of his most unruly and tattoo ornamented employees was so warm and pleasant both in appearance and speech. "Uh, thank you, keep up the good work." he finally spoke, all of the travelling McMahon family, and Coachman, now safely back in the near security of Titan Towers.

Their meeting with Billionaire Donald Trump had gone better than expected. _Much_ better than expected. In fact, things were looking much brighter for the McMahon family and for the entire WWE, although they had chosen not to celebrate just yet; the Boss had realised that through out life, if you celebrate too early, your wishes may not come true.

Glancing around their offices, the gaggle of people could hardly believe their eyes; the whole place, cleaned from top to bottom, sparkling paint work and cleaned photo frames, the marble floor shone so brightly, they could see their reflections in it!

"Wow, somebody's been busy." Shane gasped, in a very impressed manner.

"Damn good job as well, at long last!" Vince arrogantly stated, continuing to power walk his way into the building.

At the desk sat a bright and beautiful looking Maria. Her hair was adorned with curls, framing her face like an angel as he fire engine red lips heightened the whiteness of her smile. As the phone rang, she answered it carefully, taking her time to answer the questions correctly and accurately. The Chairman walked over to her, the Diva's posture stiffening. 'He doesn't _look_ mad...' she contemplated, but knew never to take chances with the eldest McMahon.

Deciding to be confident in an attempt to redeem herself for her past actions, she spoke first in a very professional tone. "Hello Mr. McMahon, how are you and your family today?"

"Good thank you. How's my favourite Diva?"

Being Maria, she didn't quite know how to interpret that question; she didn't know if he was being sarcastic or if he was being genuine. For a change. "I'm fine thank you."

"Are there any messages for me?" Vince queried, taking the post from the young woman's plastered hand, grunting at the sight of an electricity bill.

"There are a couple, a few people wanting you to ring them back when you can." she explained, handing him a piece of lined paper with thee names, phone numbers and reasons for calling, as well as time and date, of people she spoke to on the telephone.

Mr. McMahon appeared impressed. "Thank you, Miss Kanellis, you are doing a great job."

Thankful for that hint of praise, Maria grinned. "Thank you, Sir."

"That's quite alright. Now, do you have any ideas as to where Mr. Foley is?"

Maria froze, she simply didn't know what to say. If she told the Boss the truth of what was going on with the Hardcore Legend, she'd be in trouble for sure. Yet, she had to defend her loyal workmates, especially those orchestrating the plans. However, her face said it all. "Uh, I think he's in your office, Sir, but I'm not completely sure."

"Ok." Vince raised an eyebrow, weary of the last response.

But would Mick Foley be in Vince' office?

Check back for more, soon!

- - - - - - - - - -

Hey, sorry for the late update, the site's not been working properly. Hope you enjoy this chapter! Just a quick note - I maybe changing my screen name to something like Elle-X instead of Mizz Molko just incase any of ya got confused!

Thanks for reading, please review!


	21. Chapter 21: He said what?

Many of the WWE superstars were extremely worried about moving into the Stamford offices, granted; they would indefinitely be under the rule of Vince McMahon and a bunch of his disturbed cronies.

Yet, to many of their displeasures, things definitely went from bad to worst when the superstars and their families were all demanded to do chores in their 'spare time' whilst living in Titan Towers.

A question that was raised was who would be looking after the wrestlers children whilst they were 'busy' doing mandatory jobs.

Unfortunately for the parents, the first team on child care duty was none other than Kane and Test, two of the most feared and down right ugly members of the WWE locker room. It wasn't the Sandman or the Boogeyman the kids would soon be fearing...

"Uncle Kane?" A tiny voice squeaked from below.

Glancing down, the Big Red Machine peered at the eldest Michaels' child - Cameron. Children - or people in general - were not the giant's forte in life. Grunting, he couldn't ignore the sleeve pulling any longer.

"What?" he snapped; there were too many children (less than ten) crowding around him. He was starting to feel claustrophobic, backed into a corner with no means of escape.

As the other toddlers and children bounded over to the monster, the bravest yet most quiet of the group made his feelings known. "Can you read us a story, please?"

Kane rolled his unusually coloured eyes. "Why can't Test?"

"He's busy...in the toilet." The Undertaker's oldest daughter, Chasey, spoke up from beside Cameron.

"K-Kaneee?" the young and incredibly cute Cheyenne spoke up. "Aurora go poopy!"

"SHIT!" Kane growled, the children gasping in horror; did a grown up just swear? In front of them?

"I'm telling of yooooo!" Cheyenne spoke up, dashing through the 'child safety gate' closely followed by her brother and other accomplices.

Kane dragged a hand over his face; instead of_ just _looking after the little brats, now he had to trail around the whole of Titan Towers trying to find them! Things were not seeming good for the Big Red Machine.

Sensing an unwanted presence from behind him (and anybody near Kane was an unwanted presence), the monster turned his head slightly, laying eyes on the darker man stood a couple of inches away from him.

Sighing, the Big Red Machine knew exactly what was coming next.

"DAMN!"

- - - - - - - - - -

Carlito and Torrie had been assigned the thankless task of making sure that the dinning room was well equipped and prepared in time for lunch. It had been a turbulent few days for the couple, neither of which were sure if their company was wanted with the other anymore.

Removing a finger print from the stained knife with a damp cloth, Torrie shook her head at the King of Cool.

"What's the matter?"

The Diva rolled her eyes. "It was dirty!" she cried. "Did you not notice that? Are you blind or something?"

Turning on his Porto Rican charm, Carlito smirked. "No, I couldn't see, I was too blinded by your beauty."

"Yeah right!" the former Playboy cover girl snorted, dashing away from the younger man.

The serial apple eater had had enough. "Ok, ok." he said, running over to the door, locking it shut before the Diva had a chance to get there. He stood directly in front of the door, his face stern yet concerned; he wanted to know what was on his girlfriend's mind. "Neither of us are leaving until you tell me _exactly_ what's bothering you."

"Nothing." Torrie sniped, her face drooping.

Carlito knew this wasn't true. She tried to push the door with her free hand but couldn't. "Please, talk to me." Carlito ordered, in barely a whisper.

- - - - - - - - - -

WWE Tag Team Champions, Paul London and Brian Kendrick, had the unthankful task of cleaning up some of the toilets and bathrooms in the building. The usually dynamic duo weren't exactly what you'd have called in sync with each other, creating heat not only amongst each other but with their co-workers too.

Taking a peek in the bathroom once co-habituated by the 'Great' Khali and Daivari (before their mysterious disappearance), Paul tried to his best to make light of the situation, trying to get them back together again.

"Guess we won't need to bother too much with this one." he chuckled, taking a glance at the huge, gaping hole in the floor boards.

Kendrick snarled. "I wish you'd fall over the edge."

By this time, the black hair man had had just about enough of the snide remarks and general bitterness that accompanied his tag team partners tone. Dumping his bucket with soapy water down onto the floor outside the bathroom, Paul turned to face the other man. "I have had ENOUGH of this! Whatever the hell is up with you, you need to get over it and fast before I do something we'll both regret!"

Kendrick smirked in a highly arrogant fashion, cockiness leaking from every pore in his body. "Do your worst."

Shoving past him, Paul ran his fingers through his hair. It seemed so temping to just beat the crap out of him. It wasn't like him, to beat up a friend, no matter how awkward and inconsiderate they were acting. Spinning back around to face him, Paul spoke up. "You know, I always considered you my best friend. Now a days, you don't consider me more than anything than a piece of shit on the bottom of your shoe. Why?"

Brian analysed the other man's words for a few seconds before standing tall against him. "You wanna know the truth, don't ya? You wanna know what's eatin' me up so damn bad, what's making me think of you for what you really are?"

Paul cocked an eyebrow. "What?"

"I'll tell you what." Kendrick sneered, pushing his partner inside the bathroom, slamming the door behind him, locking it. "I'll tell you exactly what." he repeated sadistically, grabbing Paul by the scruff of his shirt. "You. That whore Ashley."

"Ashley?" Paul mumbled.

"All she ever did when you were in jail was talk about you. How brilliant you are. How great a tag team champion you are. How 'gorgeous' you are."

"W-why are you bitter against _me_?" London questioned; Brian's grasp had just gotten tighter, suffocating him.

Brian laughed, patronising his team mate. "Why the hell did you always have to flirt with her, ay? Every time we were around her..."

Brian Kendrick paused for a moment. He let go of the man opposite him, scraping his sweaty hair away from his face; he'd been hard at work all morning. He could really do without the interrogation. Turning his back on him, Paul London shouted out.

"Oh, so that's it, huh? Jealousy." he tutted at the last notion.

"You know I fancy her." Brian mumbled, almost in a whisper.

"Yes, I did." London sighed. "You know, I can't believe we stooped this low. If this is what everything's all about -"

"Partly."

Brian paused. The only sounds except for the distant chatter and traffic was the two men breathing heavily, their heartbeat's racing, each extremely weary of the other.

"I want us to break up, as a tag team." Kendrick announced, Paul's face dropping. "We aren't going anywhere. Let's leave it now."

"Are you kidding me?" Paul cried, spinning the co-holder of the WWE Tag Team Championship around. "We've had the longest title reign in years! We've held the belts for nearly twelve months! How can you just want to jack it all in coz you've got something shoved side ways up your ass?"

That did it. That one sentence made Brian Kendrick lose it. Completely. "It's always about **you **isn't it? It's always got to be you, what YOU want, well I've had enough of it!"

Stepping nose to nose, Brian pushed Paul. Now teetering on the edge, he clenched his fist, grabbing London by the collar.

Then a knock came at the door, disrupting them both.

- - - - - - - - - -

After nearly half an hour of talking, Carlito and Torrie Had made up...sort of. Mr. Cool was on the verge of becoming Mr. Hot Head, wanting to go and bash the brains out of two particular members of the Raw locker rooms.

The blonde usually placid Diva didn't need to protest. "I'll get Chloe to bite them in the nuts!"

"Dat - dat will be cool!" the serial apple eater smirked, tossing a Granny Smith in the air from hand to hand.

Homing in for a kiss, the newly united couple were disrupted by many bangs coming from the door. Glancing simultaneously with each other, they saw a gaggle of children crowding round the door.

Hearing all of the commotion, Shawn and Hunter made their way from the kitchen into the dinning room, Rated RKO joining them.

"What the - " the Heartbreak Kid quizzed, skipping over to the door upon seeing his son and daughter. He unlocked them, all of the children came barging into the room.

"Daddy!"

"What are you two doing here?" the Icon questioned, picking up Cheyenne who was more than a little clumsy on her feet.

"Where's Aurora?" The King Of Kings cried.

"It's ok, Chasey is brining her." Cameron told triumphantly, "We took it in turns yo carry her."

Scooping his baby girl from the Undertaker's child, Triple H was beginning to feel his blood boil. "Why aren't you all in the child care centre with Uncle Kane and Test?"

"H-he swore!" Cheyenne tittered in her Dad's ear.

"Really?" Shawn gasped in a mixture of mock shock and real horror. "What did he say?"

Before the toddler could reply to her beloved Papa, Coachman came jogging into the room, a huge grin - arrogance personified type grin - plastered to his face.

"Mr. McMahon has called a meeting - he needs you all to be there urgently." he spoke, exiting the room and continuing his business.

"Oh great, another meeting." Hunter sighed, Torrie grimmacing at the perverted winks from Rated RKO.

But what would the outcome of the Boss' meeting be?

Check back soon for the twenty-second and final chapter of 'Necessary Evil'!


	22. Chapter 22: The End Is Here!

Twenty minutes passed and members of all three rosters began entering the dining hall. Superstars of Raw, Smackdown and ECW had become unlikely comrades but, in some cases, the experience was tearing them apart. With some questions yet to be resolved, everyone took a seat, anxiously awaiting the arrival of the Boss.

With his theme song 'No Chance in Hell' blaring over the tanoy, many of the wrestlers and spouses covered their eyes for comfort. They soon spied a Mr. Vincent Kennedy McMahon, now power walking with a spring in his step, a sure but confident grin attached to his lips. Jonathan Coachman closely followed behind him, as if his mouth was permanently attached to McMahon's arse, his straightened his tie, sending out a message of smugness to the members of the locker room he felt were, 'below him'.

As the Chairman waited for silence, many of the wrestlers glanced around, confused at the fact there was no sight of Mick Foley. Simply shrugging their broad shoulders, the D Generation X duo snickered to themselves, wanting to make this next situation as awkward as possible for the Game's Father-In-Law.

As Mr. McMahon cleared his throat, he was about to receive what he would call a rude interruption, courtesy of the Heartbreak Kid. "Uh, Sir, you seem to be one man down?"

Triple H played along perfectly with his best mate's antics. "Yeah, where is _Mr. Foley_?"

With his face turning a nice shade of crimson, the DX duo realised that they just hit a nerve with the Boss. "Mick isn't here because, upon returning from my very important meeting with Donald Trump, I found him passed out, intoxicated in my office, his flyers undone, all over the place dammit!" banging his fist on the table, many from the rosters were beginning to titter amongst themselves. "I had no choice but to fire him, indefinitely."

No one was surprised with that result. High Fiving underneath the table, Hunter and Shawn's lighted up faces told the story.

"However, I haven't brought you all here to discuss Mick's personal issues." Vince once again cleared his throat, clasping an envelope in his palms. "I am here to address the financial situation of World Wrestling Entertainment."

Many groaned at the mere notion of that prospect.

"Now, I'm never one to drone on for too long, but I will require you to give me your full attention for the next ten or so minutes." Vince requested, receiving another blunt chorus of mumbles. "As you all now, just a few weeks ago, I discovered that the WWE had somehow managed to stumble upon hard times, money wise. Admittedly, we weren't doing so great at buy rates but, that is something over time I hope we can all agree that we need to work together over in improving the standards of our pay per views and live events."

The wrestlers and wives nodded; there was no doubt in any of their minds that there was definitely room for improvement.

"But, none of us, of higher authority, realised just how bad the situation had gotten. So, when I took a peep at my last bank statement, my immediate thoughts were just shock - how could we have slipped so quickly?"

Everyone gazed around at each other and nodded; it had certainly been a question present on their minds for quite some time now.

Lifting up a new envelope from the bank, Vince hushed his workers. "Then, Miss Kanellis over there handed me this bank statement this morning, upon my arrival back to Stamford."

The WWE's ditsy Diva mentioned smiled and waved to many bemused members of the locker room.

"Upon reading this statement, it appears that I have made an unfortunate and strangely inapplicable and rare mistake." Vince continued, the superstars raising their eyebrows as a new sign of awareness. "It seems that, when I was reading the original statement, well, you see..."

"What Mr. McMahon is trying to say it," Coachman stood, realising that his mentor was beginning to feel rather foolish. "It turns out that - when he was reading the other statement - his thumb was covering up the last four noughts on the final figure."

Many of the superstar's exhaled, a prolonged session of grunting was soon to follow.

However, some of the less intelligent WWE workers did not understand what the Chairman and his right hand man was saying. Then, it was explained to them by their room buddies and friends. None of them were in the slightest bit amused.

"W-what, hold on a second." The King of Kings raised from his seat, his wife and partner in crime mimicking his actions. "You mean to say that we've all lived here, in cramped, shit conditions for no reason what so ever?"

Vince smiled sheepishly. "Um, yes?"

The wrestlers and their partners felt their blood boil, Coachman taking it upon himself to be the, um, 'voice of reason'. "I can assure you, under no circumstances did Mr. McMahon do this intentionally. Do any of you _really_ think for one second that a multi-billionaire such as himself would _want_ to be stuck in a building with people _like_ you?"

The superstars glanced at one another, irritability clouding their expressions. Even Vince shared this moment of angst, disappointed at the Coach's plain words. "Ya know, Coach, I think you ought to go and start packing your stuff before I have a few choice words for you!" Vince growled, Jonathan hastily retreating from the room, as the Boss had a final few words for his employees. "Thank you all for being so understanding." he continued, before anyone - particularly DX - could interrupt him. "You have my permission to go and pack your bags because your flights have been booked for you all return back to your homes!" Vince announced, the crowd of the locker room cheering in response, barging their way back to their rooms, more than thankful for the new revelation.

- - - - - - - - - -

In room four, the Undertaker and his wife, Sara, were packing away their families belonging's. A few moments of silence passed before the Deadman's 'little' brother made his way into the room, tip toeing over to his bed.

Then, a gruff voice bellowed his name. "Kane."

Spinning around, the Big Red Machine smiled weakly. "Undertaker."

"What's the meaning of swearing in front of the children?"

Kane felt a large drop of sweat plummet from his forehead. "Um, sorry, heat of the moment."

"You know what I ought to do?" the Phenom said, marching over to his baby brother. "I ought to beat the living hell outta you."

Kane gulped; he'd been on the receiving end of the Undertaker's fists and kicks one too many times in the past.

Then, to his shock, his older brother embraced him, his leather wrapped arms holding him close. "Thanks for being such a great room buddy." he muttered, Kane returning the unusually passionate hug.

- - - - - - - - - -

Elsewhere, in room two, Randy Orton and Edge were the only two at the moment in there; Carlito, John Cena and Torrie Wilson - who were all packed and ready to leave - had gone to take her dogs for a long walk before the long flight home. It was a good time for the duo to reflect on the pass few weeks.

"I think Torrie and Carlito have made up." the third generation superstar snarled, laying pairs of his designer trousers onto his bed, well, for the next hour it would be classed as his bed.

"I know I thought we'd really busted that bimbo up." the Rated R Superstar spoke up, zipping up his final suitcase.

"I was certain that we had." the Legend Killer continued. "She believed us when we said that Carlito had been ringing up other girls, telling them how much he loved them instead of her."

"And that he was only with her so that when the time was right, he could get a good shag out of a former Playboy cover girl." Edge concluded. "Mind you, it was good fun while it all lasted, brought a bit of enjoyment to our lives at least."

Neither man had the time to say anymore; their three room buddies returned, laughing and joking with one another. Torrie was the first person in.

"I really wish that you'd gone for a number two, Clo Clo." she baby voiced at one of her miniscule dogs.

Carlito smirked. "She'll end up going poopy in here."

"She'd better not do near any of our stuff!" the one time World Heavyweight Champion spoke in a threatening tone.

Just as those words passed the lips of the Legend Killer, Chloe leapt up onto Randy and Edge's reluctantly shared bed, relieving her bowels of any last traces of, ummm, turd onto Randy's freshly ironed trousers.

Orton scowled, poison spilling from his eyes. He was beyond fuming.

Bundling her small dogs into their pet cases, the blonde Diva grinned, Carlito assisting her with all of her other bags. "Well, I guess revenge is sweet." she purred, romantically smooching her boyfriend as Rated RKO were left on their own once again, pissed off that they'd been done over.

"And dat...dat's cool!"

- - - - - - - - - - -

Meanwhile, in room eight, Paul London and Brian Kendrick were not on speaking terms as such; they only mumbled answers to one another's questions.

Ashley re-entered the room; she had finally been irritated for too long by the WWE Tag Team Champions. "Ok, ok, I know you two had your little brawl earlier on in the day but enough is enough." she spoke truthfully, both men turning to face her. "This is beyond ridiculous. You can just fall out over _me_, I'm not worth that. You guys have a fantastic friendship. Don't let me ruin it."

Paul considered his girlfriend's words for a few seconds, running a hand through his hair. "Brian, I'm not giving up on a girl that I can seriously see having a future with just because you have a crush on her. I'm sorry that it's had to come to this but I don't see why it's just _me_ who has to compromise. We are meant to be a team, the tag team champs."

Brian rubbed his chin; he knew perfectly well where his partner was coming from.

"I have thought about what you said, you know, about giving up as a tag team and all, but that's not what I want to do; I want us to be able to work as a team but, at the same time, be able to be happy. When this whole mess gets resolved, I think we need to go and have a talk with Mr. McMahon, see what he thinks. If we can't get along, we'll give it up, but until then, I don't want to."

Brian merely nodded at the words he'd just heard. Ashley, on the other hand, had different ideas.

"C'mon you guys, just make up already." she urged, pushing them together for a hug. It was hardly an embrace, hardly memorable or significant. But it was at least a start.

- - - - - - - - - - -

In room number one, the atmosphere was a lot calmer than everywhere else. Shawn Michaels and Triple H had been left by themselves, whilst their wives took their children to the toilet before the long trip back home. Fastening up a final suitcase, many of which were in taxis waiting outside, the Heartbreak Kid took a seat next to the Game, gladly accepting a swig of the mineral water available to him.

"So, I guess that is that, as they say."

"Not yet, you've still got half a bottle left!" the Icon spoke, handing back the plastic bottle to the King of Kings.

"No, muppet, I meant this whole thing is it - no more living in the same building as Mr. Vince McMahon."

"No, thank heavens." Shawn sighed, a hint of regret notable in his tone. "I guess, considering everything, it hasn't been _so_ bad."

Triple H smirked. "Nope, we managed to play a few pranks and even get Mick Foley fired." Hunter chuckled, as did his buddy.

Shawn looked puzzled. "By the way, what did Ashley put in Mick's drink?"

"Not much, just about a quarter of a bottle of neat vodka, a couple of sleeping tablets and some paracetamol, nothing _too_ bad."

The Showstoppa' gasped. "Are you kidding me? That could have killed him!"

"Shawn, have you _seen_ the size of Foley? He's huge! It would take more than _that_ to kill him!"

"Yeah, I guess you're right." Shawn once again sighed thoughtfully, the room becoming silence.

After a few moments, the Cerebral Assassin spoke up. "No but, in all seriousness, it's been great sharing a room with you and your family." he replied, tapping his best mate on the arm.

"Yeah, same here. It was kinda fun...if you ignore Vince McMahon and co!" Shawn tittered, the door before them swinging open.

Stephanie popped her head around the door. "Ok, time to go." she spoke softly, not wanting to wake a sleeping Aurora.

Turning off the light, shutting the door behind them, the D Generation X duo joined the rest of the roster members, all climbing into a taxi before making their way to an airport. It seemed like a new era had begun, one of a renewed sense of comradeship in the locker room, Vince McMahon finally in control again.

Yet, there is still one question unanswered; where the heck did The 'Great' Khali and Daivari go?

Being nice, I'll tell you. After realising that they could no longer show their faces on WWE TV ever again, they moved to Spain, never to wrestle again. Thankfully. Well, not so much in the case of Daivari, he's quite good but not the other one...

And with that, your friend's at D Generation X have a few departing words for Mr. McMahon, Jonathan Coachman and Mick Foley...

"SUCK IT!"

- - - - - - - - - -

Thank you for reading 'Necessary Evil'. Thank you to everyone who reviewed too, I hope you really did enjoy the twenty-two chapters I managed to pluck from the darkest corner of my brain cell!

Just as a note; I don't know whether they'll be another wrestling fan fiction for a while. I know I said that after 'Good Intentions?' but at the moment, I'm indulging in 'Life On Mars' and enjoying that a lot, probably more than writing this. But - I'm so gonna use that wrestling saying right now - never say never!

If you would like me to write anything specific, don't hesitate in sending me a PM, you never know, I may surprise myself and do it! I'd prefer comedy or angsty ideas but will consider any.

Thanks once again!

Eleanor.


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